


A Thing with Feathers

by farseersfool



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birds, Emotional Constipation, Found Family, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romantic Comedy, i made them all slightly older so they're a little less overdramatic, me waking up in a cold sweat at 3 AM: what if it was a modern AU and chocobos were cockatoos, sort of? does that trope count if the family is a large bird?, this is very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farseersfool/pseuds/farseersfool
Summary: Prompto fosters a cockatoo, and she acts as the catalyst for a lot of things.For example, when he catches Noctis cuddling her and telling her that she's beautiful, it is, without a doubt, a contender for the most adorable thing Prompto has ever seen, but there’s a weird undercurrent he can’t shake. Prompto knows he’s not great at feelings in general, but especially his own, so he tries to just… not spend too much time analyzing them, but… is this jealousy? Is he jealous?Of the bird?





	A Thing with Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> It's the middle of 2018 and I only just now played this game. Is anyone still reading fanfic for it? Who knows, but I wrote some!
> 
> Usually when I write an AU, it's because there's some sort of theme or aspect of the source material that I want to explore through another lens. In this case, that thing I want to explore is, "Haha, those silly boys sure do love those big dumb birds." And so do I.
> 
> Disclaimer that this presents a very idealized version of what parrot ownership is like.

Being able to work from home is the _best._ It’s two in the afternoon and Prompto has yet to put on pants. He looks up from his work-issued laptop with its tabs of quality control data in neatly aligned spreadsheets to the gaming console glowing invitingly under the TV. No one would notice if he didn’t get these results in today, as long as they’re in by the end of the week… Ugh, sometimes being able to work from home is also the _worst._

He’s distracted from his dilemma by the chirping of his phone on the couch cushion beside him, the display lighting up to show a text from an unknown number. He unlocks the phone and opens the message.

 

 

> 555-264-4747: Hey this is Prompto’s number, right? You got a minute?

He blinks in confusion for a second before typing out a reply.

Prompto: Yeah, that’s me. Who’s this?

The answer comes quickly.

 

 

> 555-264-4747: It’s Iris Amicitia. I know this is really sudden, but I have a huge favor to ask, can I give you a call?

Suddenly nervous, Prompto types in an affirmative. Is she in some sort of trouble that’s so bad she can’t go to her brother or any of her friends? Well, he’s about to find out, because it’s only seconds later that the call comes in.

“Hey, Iris,” Prompto says with a forced cheer. “What’s up?”

“Hey Prompto, sorry again to call like this out of the blue. You busy?”

“It’s fine, I needed a break from work, anyway,” he says, picking up his laptop and setting it on the coffee table so he can lay back on the couch.

“It’s actually about… well, you know how I volunteer at the animal shelter?” When Prompto makes a noise of agreement, she goes on. “We got this bird in a few weeks ago. Her old owner passed away suddenly, and she’s _so_ stressed out being around all the cats and dogs constantly, not to mention all the new people.”

“Aww, poor thing,” Prompto commiserates, though he’s not sure where Iris is going with this. “I hope someone adopts her soon.”

“Well… that’s the favor. I remember you saying how much you liked birds and we _really_ need someone to foster this cockatoo, so… I figured… I’d at least ask?” Her voice trails off, going tight as she seems to realize the absurdity of such an enormous ask on the basis of something Prompto vaguely remembers saying at a cookout Gladio had hosted about a year ago.

And yet, he’s intrigued. He _does_ really like birds. He’s loved everything fluffy and feathery every since he watched a series of nature documentaries on parrots at a very formative age, and a homeless cockatoo in need of some good Prompto lovin’ definitely fits that bill.

“I’m interested,” Prompto says after a second, “But you guys have to have, like… actual fosters on call for this sort of thing, don’t you? Y’know, people with legit bird experience? Not just some guy who likes them a lot?”

Iris laughs, sounding a little relieved that he hadn’t turned her down outright, and admits, “Yeah, we do, but there’s a problem.”

“What’s that?”

“She has a weird… vendetta against all other birds. Hates them. Tries to attack on sight. She’s been super sweet to all the people, but even having another bird in the room freaks her out. We don’t have any fosters that don’t have other birds, so we’re… well, we’re desperate.”

“So _that’s_ why you’re calling some rando.”

“You’re hardly _some rando,_ ” she says with another giggle. “I can at least vouch for your good character. But you think you might do it?”

Thinking things through has never really been Prompto’s strong suit, but his gut reaction is to say yes, so that’s what he does. “Yeah, I’d love to help. But I’ll have to ask my roommate first.” A worse thought strikes, and he blanches. “And my landlady.”

“Good luck,” Iris says, “And thanks.”

Prompto _did_ end up finishing up his work, simply because it was easier to hyperfocus on data than to stress about when Noct would be getting home. But now that the QC reports have been sent off, he’s got nothing else to do.

He’d started at Exineris Energy & Power as an equipment tech fresh out of college, bright eyed, bushy-tailed, electrical engineering degree in hand. After two years and a couple of incremental promotions, he’d applied for a QC job (and with it a pretty significant pay raise) within the company, and gotten it. The upside of this position is that all his work is on the computer, and his boss, Holly, doesn’t really care if he comes into the office at all, as long as he gets everything done. The downside is the constant, creeping, insidious imposter syndrome.

He still wonders if he’d only gotten the job at all because Noct’s dad had let Prompto list him as a reference on his resume. Noct’s dad is… kind of a big deal in Insomnia.

He sighs, and checks his personal email to see if he’s gotten any inquiries there. He does freelance photography on the side—Quicksilver Studios, he calls it. He’s had business cards made and everything. Nevermind that the “studio” is a desk in his bedroom where he touches up the photos before sending them off. He gets a couple of gigs here and there, but it hasn’t taken off the way he’d hoped it would—he likes the idea of being able to quit his day job and do photography full time someday, but at this rate it doesn’t seem likely to happen.

There are no new requests on that front today, either. It seems like the universe just wants him to stress over how Noctis is going to react to Prompto wanting to bring a large, loud, messy bird into his life—and just when that anxiety is reaching a boiling point, the door opens. Prompto pops up, kneeling on the couch and leaning over the back to face the front door.

“Hey Noct, how was work? Everything good? Also, on a scale of one to ten, how much would you hate it if I got a bird?”

Prompto hadn’t really planned on blurting it out like that before his roommate-slash-best friend was fully through the door, but he sure had, so there it is.

“Uhh,” Noctis replies eloquently, and finally closes the front door behind him. “Does Aranea even allow birds?”

“I wanted to ask you before I bothered her,” Prompto admits. Aranea owns the house they’ve been renting for the past two years, and she scares Prompto very much.

“That’s fair,” Noctis says, grimacing, presumably because she scares him too, and sets his briefcase down on the kitchen counter so he can loosen his tie. He looks good in his work clothes, the fitted button-down shirts, slacks, and blazers; Prompto has always thought so, but Noctis hates wearing them a second longer than he absolutely has to. “Anyway, what’s this about a bird?”

Prompto briefly relays what Iris told him about the cockatoo at the animal shelter, playing up how sad and lonely she must be.

He’s expecting to have to talk Noctis into it, but all the steam goes out of him when Noct simply says, “Okay.”

“Okay? What do you mean, ‘Okay?’”

“I mean… okay? I think you should do it,” Noctis says, looking a little puzzled at this turn in the conversation.

“But… birds are messy and _loud_ and kind of like living with a perpetual toddler,” Prompto says.

“So? I already live with you, and you’re kind of like that, too.”

“Hey!” Prompto says, “That’s rich coming from someone who would _never_ have clean clothes if I didn’t do your laundry.”

“I do my laundry, just not to your standards, apparently,” Noctis reminds him with a barely-there grin.

“You _have_ to separate the darks from the whites or your clothes are going to wear out faster, Noct.” It’s a well-rehearsed argument. “But back to the bird. I think, somehow, a cockatoo is going to be louder than me, at least by a little bit.”

“Are you trying to get me to talk you out of this or something?” Noctis asks, and shrugs. The gesture speaks volumes. “Like I said,” he continues, “I think you should go for it.”

In retrospect, he should have expected this. Noctis, while not great in terms of people skills, has always been an animal lover. Prompto knows _full well_ that Noctis was the one who had been feeding the cute stray siamese cat that had prowled around their apartment building in college. The one who had kept throwing up hairballs on their welcome mat. Hairballs that _Prompto_ got to clean up, of course.

“Well,” Prompto says after a second, “I guess I should give Aranea a call, then.”

“Let me know how _that_ goes,” Noctis says with a sympathetic twist to his mouth before turning and heading back to his bedroom. Prompto just nods and flops back across the couch.

He unlocks his phone and scrolls through his contacts until he finds Aranea’s number. Steeling himself, he takes a deep breath, and dials her.

The phone rings for so long that he’s sure it’s going to go to voicemail, and honestly, that’s almost a relief, but Aranea picks up on the fifth ring.

“Prompto,” she says flatly, “What did you break.”

“Hi Aranea,” he squeaks, then clears his throat to get his voice under control. “Nothing’s broken, I promise. Everything is just great. Peachy keen.”

Oh gods, why did he say _peachy keen?_

“Okay,” Aranea, “Then what’s the problem?”

“Who says there’s a problem?” Prompto asks, digging himself in deeper. “Maybe I just called to say hi?”

“Prompto.”

“Right, sorry.” He takes a deep breath and cuts to the chase. “I’d like to foster a cockatoo, is that okay?”

“A… cockatoo? Like, those big, stupid-looking birds with the weird heads?” Aranea asks for clarification.

Prompto resists the urge to defend cockatoos and insist that they are _not_ stupid looking and their heads are _adorable,_ thank you. Instead, he says, “Uh, yep. One of those.”

“You’ll pay for anything it messes up, right?” She asks.

“Of course.”

“Then that’s fine, I guess,” she says, sounding bored.

“What, really?” Once again, getting agreement was almost _too easy._

“Yeah. And seriously, just text me next time unless the house is on fire.” She pauses for a second, then adds. “And actually, text me then, too.”

“Okay, sorry,” Prompto says.

“Enjoy your big dumb-looking bird,” Aranea says, then hangs up.

“I will,” he says, even though he knows she’s disconnected. At the same time, Noctis comes back out of his room, dressed in joggers and a soft black v-neck shirt.

“What’s the verdict?” He asks, nudging at Prompto’s ankle.

“She said yes!” Prompto exclaims, and moves his feet so Noctis can sit down on the other end of the couch, and then nonchalantly puts them across his roommate’s lap once he’s settled.

“Cool. So when are we getting the bird?” He asks, ignoring the legs in his lap.

“Good question, let me text Iris and find out. In the meantime, wanna order takeout to celebrate?”

“Are you just trying to get me to buy you dinner?”

“Is it working?”

Noctis huffs, though it’s clear he’s not really annoyed. “Fine, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to put on pants before the delivery person gets here.”

Prompto looks down and realizes that he _is_ still just wearing his boxers and an old college t-shirt. “That’s a reasonable request.”

It turns out they can get the bird on Saturday. That gives Prompto all of _one day_ to prepare.

This is pretty par for the course for Prompto—he’s gone and made an impulsive decision, and now he gets to deal with the fallout. Having twenty-four hours to learn to take care of a large and very intelligent bird is far from the worst mess he’s gotten himself into, honestly.

Besides, he has a plan. He’s finished up all of his work for the day a little early and searched “bird supply store” on his phone. The top result is a place called Wiz’ Parrot Post halfway across town. It’s got really good reviews, so Prompto figures he can head over and pick up supplies—and some advice.

So he grabs his wallet and keys, locks up, and jogs down to the train station, catching a ride to the stop nearest the shop and walking the remaining distance.

There’s a raucous, “Hello!” as soon as Prompto steps into the store, and an enormous blue and yellow parrot on an artificial tree on the other side of the room eyes him, waiting for a response.

“Hello!” it repeats, more insistently this time.

“Hello,” Prompto replies hesitantly.

Apparently satisfied, the bird returns to picking at a bowl of fruit.

“Don’t mind Marvin, I made the mistake of trying to teach him manners,” says another voice, human this time, from the side room. “Now he throws a fit if someone won’t return his greeting.”

The speaker is an older man, wearing a stained apron with the store’s logo, and he comes over to scratch the bird--Marvin’s--head affectionately.

“I mean, it really would be very rude not to reply, so I get it,” Prompto says, glancing between the man and the bird. The parrot squawks and turns in a circle on his perch, presumably in vindication.

“Don’t encourage him,” the man says with an obviously fond grin. “Anyway, this your first time in? I’m Wiz, the owner. Can I help you find anything?”

Seizing the opening, Prompto says, “Yes, actually, I’d really appreciate some advice, if you don’t mind…” And he explains the situation, clarifying details when Wiz asks.

By the time he winds down, Wiz is nodding thoughtfully, though there’s a crease of concern in his forehead.

“That’s a whole lot of bird for a first timer—not that I think you’re doing a bad thing, not by a long shot.”

“Yeah, I know,” Prompto agrees, “And I wanna make sure I don’t mess up the poor bird any more, ya know? She sounds like she’s been through a lot already.”

“Well, the fact that you’re here asking is a good sign, I think,” Wiz says. “I’ll be right back, hang on just a second.”

He leaves Prompto alone with the blue and gold bird.

“So, Marvin,” Prompto asks the bird after a moment, “What do you think of all this?”

The parrot tilts his head to the side as if in deep thought, blinking his pale eyes a few times. “Toes,” he finally announces.

“Insightful,” Prompto says. “Thank you.”

“Toes,” Marvin agrees, holding up a foot and wiggling the aforementioned appendages at him.

“Yep, those are your toes.”

“Got ‘em,” Wiz says, returning from the back room. He’s holding a small stack of worn-looking books, which he holds out to Prompto. He flips through the titles, seeing guides for bird behavior, training guides, and one specific to cockatoos.

“I’m not saying you need to read all of those tonight, but I thought they might be useful to have on hand while your bird settles in.”

“This is great, Wiz. Thanks so much,” Prompto says. “How much do I owe you for these?”

Wiz holds up a hand to stave off the question. “I’ve had those sitting around in the back for years. Someone might as well get some use out of them.”

“Well… Okay, thanks. I also wanted to pick up a few things for her… any recommendations?”

Prompto leaves the store an hour later with a bag full of parrot toys and treats in addition to the books, and a wallet that’s feeling significantly lighter—damn, bird toys are _expensive!_ But he feels like it was the least Wiz deserved after all the help he’d given Prompto. He’s already feeling _much_ better about taking care of a cockatoo starting tomorrow.

He gets back to the house just as Noctis is pulling back into the garage, and waves. Noct waves back, and gets out, still in his smart work clothes, holding a paper bag similar to Prompto’s own in his hand.

“You’re back late,” Prompto says. Noctis hardly ever runs errands after getting back from his job at his dad’s gigantic tech company.

“Went to the grocery store.”

“Whatcha got?” Prompto asks, curiosity piqued since he’s the one who does most of the shopping, and Noctis holds the bag open for him to see.

Very seriously, Prompto asks, “Who are you, and what have you done with my roommate?”

The bag is full of crisp vegetables and bright fruits, leafy greens and juicy berries. All manner of things Noctis wouldn’t normally eat if his life depended on it.

Noct breathes out a laugh and rolls his eyes, going slightly pink. “It’s not for me. I was reading online that parrots need to eat fresh foods, and I didn’t think the shelter would provide those, so I thought I’d pick some up.”

“That makes _much_ more sense,” Prompto says, “Thanks, buddy.” And they take their respective bags inside. He stashes his bird goodies in a chair while Noctis unloads the veggies into the fridge. With all the fresh ingredients, this is the first time it’s looked like a refrigerator belonging to two adults. Kind of a shame it took the addition of a bird to get them to this point.

But also, it’s pretty cool that Noct is just as into the idea of having a bird as Prompto is. He may be more low-key about it, but that’s just how he is. Prompto’s known him since they were fourteen, which make it… almost twelve years, now. After more than a decade of friendship, he thinks he can read Noct pretty well, and he’s certain that they’re both equally thrilled about the bird.

And that’s pretty neat.

Prompto is up before the sun the next morning. Saturdays are usually when he goes on his long-distance runs, but he doesn’t have time for that today. Still, if he doesn’t do _something_ physical he’s going to have so much pent-up nervous energy that he’ll vibrate right out of his skin.

So, he puts on his workout clothes and running shoes and does a couple miles around the neighborhood. By the time he returns, showers, and gets breakfast started, Noctis is just managing to drag himself out of bed.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Prompto says cheerfully. “You’re up early.” It is, indeed, not even nine in the morning yet. Possibly a Saturday record for him.

He makes a vague sleepy sound which Prompto expertly translates as, “I’m very excited about the bird,” and stumbles to the fridge, moving a bushel of kale out of the way so he can grab one of his awful energy drinks.

“You know those things are terrible, right?”

Noctis makes another, more derisive sound that probably means, “Still tastes better than coffee.”

“Whatever you say, dude. Anyway, want some breakfast? I’m making eggs and turkey bacon.”

A skeptical noise this time.

“Plain, I promise. No peppers or anything.”

Noctis nods and cracks open his foul caffeinated sugar-water, downing half the can in one go as Prompto watches in horror. He shakes his head and cracks a few more eggs into the bowl to scramble.

As they’re finishing up breakfast, Prompto’s phone beeps with a text. He checks, and it’s from Iris.

 

 

> Iris: I prooobably should have mentioned this before, but you have a truck to pick up the cage, right?

Prompto groans, because _how did he not consider this?_

Prompto: Uhh…  how big are we talking?

The reply he gets a few seconds later is a photo of a very large birdcage with Iris’ slight form next to it for comparison. It’s taller than she is. It might be taller than Prompto is. There’s no way this is fitting in Noct’s car. He’s only _mostly_ sure that it’ll fit through the front door.

Prompto: ...I’ll figure something out... 

 

 

> Iris: sorry!! I really should have said something the other day!!

He assures her that it’s okay, puts his phone down, and looks over to Noctis, who is looking almost 80% awake by now.

“Do you know anyone with a truck that can help us on extremely short notice?”

Noctis shoves a last piece of egg into his mouth as he thinks, chews, swallows. After a few seconds, he says, “Cindy, maybe?”

“What?” Prompto says, his heart jumping into his throat. “No, we don’t need to bother _her…_ ”

Cindy is Noctis’ longtime mechanic. Noct may be set to inherit the largest and most profitable company in the greater Insomnia metropolitan area and beyond, but his car is the only aspect of his life in which he acts like a stereotypical rich boy. It’s bright, flashy, a classic, and Cindy’s the one who keeps it in perfect shape.

Cindy also happens to be very sweet, very pretty, and very competent. She’s intimidating in a completely different way than Aranea. Prompto has trouble forming a coherent sentence when she’s around.

“She’s the only one I can think of, though,” Noctis says with a shrug. He grabs Prompto’s empty plate and his own and takes them to the sink.

Prompto guesses that if it comes down to having to stutter and embarrass himself in front of Cindy or trying to fit a birdcage onto the train, he’ll take the embarrassment.

“Well, I guess there’s no harm in trying…”

“I’ll text her,” Noct says nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal that he can just _text_ the prettiest woman in Insomnia whenever he wants.

Prompto distracts himself by trying to figure out how to rearrange the living room to incorporate their new feathered friend, but after a few minutes, Noctis interjects, saying simply, “She’ll help.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah, take a look.” And with that, Noctis hands Prompto his phone, where the text conversation is still open.

Noctis: is there any chance u could drive me and prompto to pick something up 2day? we need a truck…

 

 

> Cindy: I’m afraid I have some appointments, but if it’s an emergency, I reckon I can help. What’s up? That Regalia of yours better not be in trouble.

Noctis: nothing like that. car’s fine. prom’s getting a cockatoo from the shelter and the cage won’t fit in my car…

 

 

> Cindy: A cockatoo? For real? Okay, I’m cancelling all my appointments, I have to know more. I’ll be there with the flatbed in an hour.

Noctis: thx cindy ur the best!

True to her word, Cindy arrives in a truck emblazoned with the logo of the Hammerhead Garage almost exactly an hour later, honking the horn twice to let them know she’s waiting.

In the intervening hour, Prompto has changed clothes four times, eventually settling on his favorite jeans and a charcoal henley that used to be Noct’s. He’d borrowed it once, and Noctis had said it looked better on Prompto, so he should just keep it. It’s stupid, but maybe Cindy will think it looks good on him, too.

Noctis, on the other hand, had had to be reminded at the last minute to change out of his pajamas. How he can be in the presence of _Cindy Aurum_ and not want to make an effort with his appearance Prompto will never understand, but at least he’s not wearing flannel sleep pants anymore.

Cindy waves cheerfully when she sees the two of them come down the sidewalk, and Prompto can feel his face go bright red as he waves back.

“Shotgun?” Noctis offers with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

“You go ahead, I’m fine in the back,” Prompto says quickly, and opens the door to the back seat before Noct can tease him any more.

Once inside the truck, however, Cindy cranes around and looks right at him. Prompto could die right here.

“What’s this about you gettin’ a bird?”

“Oh—uh, well, you know how it is… The, uh, the shelter?” He begins, occasionally managing to say an actual human word. She nods encouragingly. “They, uh, they needed someone to foster this, um, this cockatoo. And, uh, asked me. Noct is helping.”

Cindy beams at him, and, yep, Prompto is pretty sure his soul is ascending to heaven right here and now. “Well that’s awfully sweet of y’all, takin’ in some poor abandoned critter. Can’t wait to see it.”

“That’s us,” Noctis says, coming to the rescue, when it becomes clear that Prompto doesn’t have the faculties to respond. “Friends to all living things. Right, Prom?”

“Uh-huh,” he manages shakily.

Luckily, they don’t expect much from him in the way of conversation for the rest of the ride, as Cindy predictably changes the subject to the love of _her_ life: Noctis’ car. She pesters Noct about upgrades and modifications, offering to do the work practically for free if he’ll just let her get back under that hood.

Prompto tries to imagine what it might be like for her to be that into _him,_ but his brain short-circuits trying to wrap itself around the idea. Not that it’s too appealing or anything, but that he literally cannot fathom it.

He should really have _some_ ability to picture himself in a relationship, considering he’s twenty-five years old, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that Cindy is a zillion miles out of his league, or maybe it’s something else. He could just be a late bloomer. Who knows.

Either way, he’d much rather spend the drive staring out the window and thinking about all the cool tricks he’s going to teach the bird once she settles in.

Cindy drops Prompto and Noctis off at the shelter’s front door with instructions to text her with where to go load the cage onto the truck. They both thank her, and Prompto, trading one flavor of nerves for another, heads into the building, Noctis close on his heels.

Iris is behind the front desk, and she waves brightly when she sees them.

“Noct!” She says, thoroughly ignoring Prompto for the moment. “I wasn’t expecting you to come, too. Not that isn’t good to see you,” she adds hastily. She seems a little flustered. _‘Not_ quite _over her teenage crush on Noct, is she?’_ Prompto thinks.

“I wasn’t going to miss this,” he says with a shrug.

“Hello, I’m here too,” Prompto says pointedly, and Iris has the grace to look apologetic as she waves to him.

They go through pleasantries while Iris gets the paperwork together. She asks about work, they both answer blandly. Noctis asks her about school, and she says her classes are going well. The normal small talk that they’ll all forget as soon as it’s over.

Prompto has checked out of the conversation to focus on getting the paperwork filled out when he notices something a little odd.

“This isn’t seriously her name, is it?” He asks, pointing at the field in question.

Iris sighs. “I’m afraid it is. Her previous owner was apparently something of an eccentric, and she won’t answer to anything else.”

“What is it?” Noctis asks, craning his head to get a better look at the completely ridiculous name this bird has been saddled with.

“Her Radiance Queen Squishums, the First of Her Name,” Noctis reads in disbelief. “You have to be joking.”

“We’ve tried to get her to answer to literally anything else, but she won’t hear of it. Addressing her by anything other than ‘Your Radiance’ or ‘Squishums’ has gotten us nowhere,” Iris grumbles. “Maybe you’ll have better luck, I don’t know.”

“Gotta try,” Prompto says, filling out the form regardless of any patently absurd names, “Because as… adorable as that is, it’s a little much, don’t you think?”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Iris assures him as she takes the completed paperwork. “Anyway, would you like to meet _Her Radiance?_ ”

“I would _love_ to meet Her Radiance,” Prompto confirms.

“Well, luckily for you, she should be all ready to go. Be right back,” Iris says, and goes through a door reading ‘employees only.’ A minute or so later, she returns with what looks like an ordinary hard-sided cat carrier, which she sets gently on the counter.

“Presenting Her Radiance Queen Squishums, The First of Her Name,” Iris says with a flourish.

Prompto bends over slightly to look through the wire door of the carrier, and sure enough, there is a very large solid white bird huddled in the back, eyeing him warily.

Noctis leans over too, resting his chin on Prompto’s shoulder to get a good look.

“She looks scared,” he remarks, his voice pitched low.

“Well, consider her perspective. She was shoved in a box and now a two-headed giant is leering at her.”

The breath from Noctis’ half-laugh raises goosebumps on Prompto’s neck incongruous with how warm it is in the lobby, but he’s pulling back in the same instant so Prompto doesn’t think too much about it. “We should probably get her back so she can get settled in at the house, yeah?” Noctis asks.

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees. “How about you, Your Radiance?” The bird in the carrier makes a very small skeptical sound, and doesn’t seem too thrilled about the prospect. “Don’t worry, you’ll love it,” he adds in reply to her seeming reluctance. “I promise.”

Contrary to Prompto’s promise, Her Radiance Queen Squishums remains very still and very quiet for the first few days she’s with them. They’ve set up her cage in the living room, in a spot where she can see out the window but still feel secure having a wall at her back.

“Thought you said she was supposed to be loud,” Noctis says one evening, as the two of them are sitting on the couch half-watching a movie.

Prompto glances over at the bird. He’s left her cage door open so she can explore if she wants, but all she’s done is climb out to perch on top of it, watching the two humans closely.

“I think she’s still a little bit scared of us,” he says. The books he’d gotten from Wiz said it might take her up to a few weeks to settle in and open up.

It does not, in fact, take _quite_ that long.

By the end of the first week, the bird has begun to show some personality, chattering excitedly and bouncing in anticipation when Prompto brings her food in the morning. She goes to _town_ on those veggies. Noctis could really take a lesson from her.

She’s come to accept both Prompto and Noctis as safe humans, and will deign to step up onto their hands when offered, or, increasingly often, to fly over uninvited, land on a shoulder and demand attention.

Prompto has learned that he can’t just kick off his shoes in the living room anymore after getting back from his morning run, because she has a _thing_ for shoelaces. Really, he’s lucky it was _just_ the laces that had gotten chewed to pieces and not his expensive running shoes themselves.

All in all, it’s pretty great.

There’s just the one thing. That name. It’s got to go.

He brings this up to Noctis while they’re eating dinner, exactly two weeks after bringing the bird home from the shelter. All three of them are at the table—she’s made it _very clear_ that she wants to be included at mealtimes, so she has her own plate with a handful of grapes on it, which she’s delightedly eviscerating, making a huge mess. The two of them are eating sandwiches, and making only minimal messes.

“So,” Prompto says between bites of his sandwich, “We’ve gotta come up with a decent name for this bird.”

“Her Radiance Queen Squishums isn’t growing on you?” Noctis’ tone is teasing.

“Dude.”

The bird makes an inquisitive noise and they both look over at her and her grape-smeared beak.

“Yes, we’re talking about you,” Prompto says. “Gonna find you a better name, what do you think.”

She tilts her head to the side, and then shakes, fluffing her feathers out and flinging more bits of grape everywhere.

“She doesn’t seem to hate the idea,” Noct comments. “Well, any suggestions?”

“Uhh… Fluffy?”

“ _I_ object to that one.”

“You’re right, it was terrible. I panicked.” Prompto shrugs and takes another bite of his sandwich, giving Noctis a challenging look as if to say, _‘let’s see you do better._ ’

He looks thoughtful for a second, then says, “Juniper?”

Oh, well. That’s actually a very nice name. Cute without being _too much._

Swallowing, Prompto looks over at the bird and asks, “What do you think? Juniper sound good to you?”

She ruffles her feathers again and says, clearly and unmistakably, “Squishums.”

Noctis and Prompto exchange a look.

“So, she talks.”

“So she does,” Prompto confirms. He looks back at the bird. “Sunshine?”

“Squishums,” she corrects him.

“Kiwi?” Noctis tries.

“Squishums,” says the bird.

“Polly?”

“Squishums.”

“Pepper?”

“Squishums.”

“Buttons?”

“Squishums.”

In defeat, Prompto says, “Squishums.”

The bird—Squishums; he guesses he should get used to calling her that—squeals in apparent delight at having won the argument.

“So, I guess we’re stuck with a bird named Her Majesty Queen Squishums,” Noctis says, his tone halfway between dejected and amused.

“ _Radiance,_ ” Squishums corrects him.

“I’m so sorry for his error, Your Radiance,” Prompto says to her in a tone of grave sincerity. To Noct, he adds, “Looks like it. I guess we might as well embrace it.”

So they do.

Over the next few days, Her Radiance Queen Squishums, The First of Her Name, gains a series of titles based on her noble deeds: Her Radiance Queen Squishums, Destroyer of Aglets, Slayer of Noctis’ Phone Charger, Eviscerator of Oranges, She Who Shat Mightily On The Rug.

Prompto can’t lie, getting used to having such a difficult creature in his life is _hard,_ but he’s finding it to be worth the effort. There’s something really cool about a creature as skittish as a bird seeking out his attention and demanding to be petted. She really is living up to her name in terms of entitlement, though.

He expresses this sentiment to Noctis one evening after work, the three of them on the couch, half-watching something on the TV. “Sure is a good thing we don’t have human kings and queens anymore, right? Squishums is bad enough.”

Noctis, who is gently but firmly removing his earlobe from Her Radiance’s beak, says, “There’s no way _any_ human queen could be as demanding as Her Majesty—”

“Radiance!” She interjects, finally letting go of his ear in her indignity.

“—right, of course, _Her Radiance_ .” Noctis fixes Prompto with a look that says, _‘see what I mean?’_

As if to prove his point, Squishums stretches her neck out to chew on Noct’s ear again. He sighs and accepts it.

Sometimes it’s easier to give into the demands of royalty, apparently.

Now that Her Radiance has settled in at home, Prompto has judged that it’s high time that his and Noct’s friends got to meet her. He’s posted approximately three billion photos of her on social media in the past three weeks, and gotten at least half as many texts to the effect of, “so when do I get to see her,” from Ignis and Gladio. He knows from Noctis’ insincere complaining that he’s been getting them too.

“Might as well invite them over for dinner,” Prompto had said after one such comment, and so the plans had been made.

The nice thing about inviting Ignis over for dinner is that he brings ingredients and does all the cooking. The nice thing about inviting Gladio over for dinner is that he brings a _lot_ of beer.

The two of them live in the same part of town, so they must have carpooled because they arrive together. As soon as Noct lets them in and the door shuts behind them, they drop their respective offerings on the counter for him to deal with and make a beeline for Squishums’ cage.

She’s perched on top of it, a plastic toy clutched tightly in one foot, but all her attention is on these very new, very large humans that are approaching her.

“What a marvelous creature,” Ignis says, and glances over to where Prompto is sprawled across the couch, not having bothered to get up when they came in. “Prompto, your photos hardly do her justice.”

He’s about to retort when Gladio cuts in. “Get a load of the size of that beak. I bet you could really crunch some fingers with that, couldn’t you?”

She doesn’t respond to these accusations, but she does give a little shake to fluff up her crest, to the apparent delight of her newfound audience.

“Showoff,” Prompto says, finally levering himself off the couch. He joins them in front of the cage and says, “You wanna do the thing we’ve been working on? Can you shake hands?” And he puts his finger out. Obligingly, Her Radiance drops her toy and grabs that instead.

“Good bird!” He praises her, throwing a grin at Ignis and Gladio in turn.

“Good bird!” Squishums agrees. “Have a grape?”

Prompto laughs, and says, “Yeah, okay.” He looks over his shoulder, where Noctis is putting the last of the beer into the fridge. “Hey, Noct, can you bring Her Radiance a grape?”

“Yep,” he says, and joins them a moment later with a handful of treats. To Squishums he says, “But you have to show them your other trick first.”

She makes an affronted noise, but seems to find this acceptable.

Noctis puts his hand—the one that isn’t full of grapes—on the small of  Prompto’s back and moves past him.

“Squishums, give kisses,” Noctis commands imperiously, leaning in toward the bird. She stretches her neck out, pressing her beak against his mouth and making exaggerated kissing sound effects.

With a soft laugh, Noctis steps back and says, “Good bird.”

“Grape! Grape!” Her Radiance demands, and Noct obligingly dispenses the grapes. Prompto just wishes he had thought to get the camera, because that had been one of the top five most adorable things he’d ever seen, in his life, ever. But at least he’ll have plenty more opportunities—there is very little the bird won’t do for a grape.

“How long did it take you to teach her to do that?” Ignis asks Prompto while Her Radiance begins messily eating her treats.

“Dude, literally not even an hour. She’s _scary_ smart.”

“I’m _still_ working on teaching Molly to roll over,” Gladio grumbles, referring to his absurdly huge (and equally friendly) dog, Amalia.

“I’m sure she’s doing her best,” Ignis says mildly.

“You get your cat to stay off the kitchen counters, yet?” Prompto asks, and by the way Ignis bristles, he can tell the answer is a resounding ‘no.’

“Why don’t I go get started on dinner,” he says, rather than answer the question outright. “Noct, give me a hand?”

“Yeah, okay,” Noctis says, and follows Ignis.

“I guess that leaves us with the important job,” Gladio says, leaving Her Radiance to her grapes and settling heavily onto the couch.

“What’s that, big guy?”

“Making sure all the beer doesn’t go to waste. Grab me one?”

“You always have the best ideas,” Prompto says, and slides into the kitchen, grabbing a pair of bottles from the refrigerator and receiving a glare from Ignis when he accidentally gets in his way.

Prompto lets Gladio pop open the bottles while he fires up the game console, and starts up a fighting game—it’s not one that gets a lot of traction when it’s just him and Noct, but he knows Gladio’s a fan.

“Aww, no fair, I wanna play,” Noctis says from the kitchen.

“You can go play as soon as you’ve finished prepping those vegetables,” Ignis says.

“Ugh,” Noctis says, drawing out the sound for a good five seconds, but Prompto hears the sound of a knife on the cutting board moments later and grins. It took years of effort, but now, on rare occasions, Noctis will eat a vegetable… mostly when Ignis is the one cooking them. Ignis can make _anything_ taste good.

Eventually, Noct comes and picks up the third controller to join them. Gladio handily wipes the floor with their asses—even when Her Radiance scares the shit out of him by walking over and climbing up his pant leg, laughing at his reaction.

“I don’t know if I could handle having a pet that can laugh at me,” he says as Prompto scoops her off of Gladio’s knee and moves her to his shoulder. Her feet are sticky from the grape juice, but he’ll deal with that later.

“It can be a little demoralizing sometimes,” Noctis agrees.

“And yet hilarious,” Prompto adds, feeling the need to defend _his_ bird. “You’re only saying that because she laughed at you when you couldn’t beat that boss last weekend.” Squishums leans against his face and makes a soft cooing sound as if in thanks. Noctis, on the other hand pouts.

“The bird’s right; get good, Noct,” Gladio says, and also laughs.

Noctis uses the distraction to land a critical hit on Gladio’s character. “Ha! _Now_ who needs to get good?!”

Gladio still wins the round.

And the next six, until dinner is ready. Prompto hands Squishums off to Noctis and goes to set the table. It’ll be a little cramped with four humans and a bird, but he’ll make it work.

“Ah, I see the queen will be joining us,” Ignis says, when he notices Prompto setting down a plastic bowl of raw veggies on the table.

“Haha, yeah, she kind of throws a fit if she feels left out,” he says.

“Never fear, it wasn’t an objection,” he says, and calls over to the others, “It’s ready, come serve yourselves.”

Dinner is predictably fantastic. Ignis could have been a top-notch chef if he hadn’t been too busy finishing up his PhD in statistics _and_ working full time as a development analyst at LucisTech—Noctis’ family’s company. As it is, they’re usually the only ones lucky enough to get to taste his cooking, not that Prompto, at least, is complaining.

As the meal is winding down, the topic of the name comes up, somewhat inevitably.

“So, you’re keeping the name the shelter gave her?” Gladio asks, pointing at Her Radiance Queen Squishums, The First of Her Name with his fork.

“The decision wasn’t really up to us,” Noctis says blandly.

“Yeah, she’s really attached to that name,” Prompto agrees.

“Nonsense,” Ignis says, “You simply didn’t find anything that appeals to her.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Noct says, his tone one of futile resignation.

Ignis _hms_ and muses, “Well, she’s clearly an elegant lady of refined taste, so she needs a name to reflect that. How about Seraphina?”

Her Radiance looks up from a carrot and replies, “Squishums.”

“Not that one, then? How about Elliana?”

“Squishums,” says Squishums.

“Marietta?”

“Squishums.”

Before Ignis can suggest anything else, Gladio cuts in, “You’re going about this all wrong. I might not know much about birds, but I do know one thing: they’re basically little dinosaurs. You gotta try a name that would appeal to a dinosaur. How about Talon?”

“Squishums,” the bird replies, sounding even more skeptical than before.

“Killer!” Gladio suggests.

“Squishums.”

“Terror!”

“Squishums.”

“She is _really_ attached to that dumb name,” Gladio remarks.

“So it would seem,” Ignis says, apparently conceding defeat.

“Tried to tell ya,” Prompto says, reaching over to ruffle the feathers on her head. She bows her head for more scratches, and he gladly accedes to this request.

“Do you think she’d let me pick her up?” Ignis asks after a moment.

“Probably?” Prompto says. “She doesn’t seem very scared of you guys. She might test your hand out with her beak though, so don’t freak out.”

Slowly, Ignis reaches across the table toward the bird, presenting his hand. Just as slowly, she stretches out her neck, and grabs one of his fingers with her beak, as forewarned. Prompto sees a flash of panic on his face, but she doesn’t bite down. Apparently satisfied that Ignis’ hand is a safe and stable perch, she happily steps up onto it. She stays there for a moment while he moves her closer to his face and studies him.

Appearing to have a goal in mind, Her Radiance scoots sideways off of Ignis’ hand onto his wrist, then up his forearm until she’s climbing up to his shoulder. He holds very still, seemingly afraid to move and startle her. Once she’s comfortably on his shoulder, she sizes him up.

Then, in one swift movement, she grabs his glasses, and flies back to her cage with them.

“Hey, Squishums, no, not cool,” Prompto says, jumping up to go get the glasses back.

Gladio and Noctis are clearly both trying their damndest not to laugh. To be fair, it _is_ pretty funny.

“Stop it!” Squishums demands when Prompto gets over to her, hand outstretched to retrieve the glasses.

“I will not; these are not yours,” he says, “Bad birdie!”

“Good bird!” she retorts, her tone somewhere between indignant and imploring. She has the glasses clutched in one foot, though they’re thankfully looking undamaged.

“Not right now, you’re not. Give them back,” he says sternly.

Squishums looks at the glasses, then up to his disappointed face, and seems to realize that she’s done something wrong.

“Bad birdie?” She asks.

“Yes, stealing the glasses was bad,” Prompto says. He picks up one of her toys and offers it to her instead. She seems to find this an acceptable trade, and drops the glasses in favor of it.

Prompto quickly picks up the glasses before Her Radiance can change her mind, and returns them to Ignis.

“Sorry about that,” he says, “Looks like we can add Spectacle Thief to her list of royal deeds.” But against all odds, Ignis is smiling. In fact, he looks thoroughly charmed as he checks his spectacles over before putting them back on.

“It seems they’re none the worse for wear,” he says, “Regardless, it sounds like she regretted her actions there at the end. _And_ it seems like you can be _quite_ the disciplinarian when you need to be.”

“Aww, were you worried I couldn’t handle the responsibility, Iggy?” Prompto asks, but he laughs.

“Of course not; you’ve kept Noct alive for the past seven years or so. Surely a bird would present no challenge.”

“Hey, I’m an _adult_! I can take care of myself!” Noctis insists.

Prompto and Ignis share a look, but don’t push it.

They finish up dinner and move onto drinks, chatting and catching up.

Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio have known each other practically their whole lives. Gladio’s dad is the VP of LucisTech, and Ignis’ mom is the head of the R&D department, so they went to a lot of _very boring_ company functions together as kids. Being so close in age, it was sort of inevitable that they’d end up being friends. Prompto had joined the group later, but now he fits in as seamlessly as if he’d always been there.

Sometimes, sure, he still feels a little left out when they talk about their shared history, or people in the company that Prompto has never met, but it’s fine, mostly. He knows, by this point, that they all value him. Especially Noctis.

Noctis has a _massive_ trust fund, and the day he graduated from college, he gained access to all of it at once. He could buy any house in Insomnia. He could buy any _ten_ houses in Insomnia, and have money to spare. There’s no reason for him to keep renting this place from a frankly terrifying landlady and splitting the bills with Prompto. Except that he, for whatever reason, wants to, and knows that Prompto would never be comfortable letting him pay more than his fair share of the bills.

So, yeah, at this point in his life, he’s secure enough to know that his friends value and _like_  him. It’s been a long and rocky road to get to this point, but he’s finally here, and it’s really, really nice.

The evening draws on, and when the sun goes down, Her Radiance starts to get cranky and sleepy, reminding them sharply that, “It’s bedtime! Bedtime!” Prompto lets Noctis put her to bed in her cage and they move out back to the patio, watching the fireflies flicker in the grass.

“We need to do this more often,” Gladio says, to murmurs of agreement all around.

It’s harder to find the time now that they’re all juggling adult responsibilities, but… yeah, they really do, Prompto thinks.

Ignis and Gladio leave not too long after that, insisting that Noctis and Prompto keep the leftovers from dinner. Prompto, who never got out of his college habit of always accepting free food, doesn’t protest too much.

He’ll have a shitload of dishes to do in the morning, but for now, he’s content to say goodnight to Noct and go to bed, comfortably full and a little bit buzzed.

It’s been a good day. He’s glad he had the bird as an excuse to see his friends.

The following weekend, Prompto has a photography job. The client is someone he knows—vaguely, at least. Honestly, most of his clients are. He’s really not doing a good job advertising his side business. The fact that he can only work weird hours due to his full time job isn’t helping either, but he digresses. Anyway, this one is a woman he sort of remembers from high school, and she’s hired him to photograph her son’s fourth birthday party.

She’s only a year older than him and she has a four-year-old kid. That’s wild to think of. Prompto still feels like he’s mostly a kid himself, and he’s twenty-five.

He’s got his camera packed up and he’s ready to catch the train out to the station in the suburbs where his client Luisa and her wife are having the party.

“You sure you don’t want a ride?” Noctis asks for the fourth time. He’s still in his pajamas, lying on the couch and eating cereal straight from the box. At least they’re failing at being adults together, Prompto thinks, looking at him.

“It’s fine, there’s a station just a couple blocks from where the party is,” he replies, also for the fourth time. “You sure you don’t mind watching Her Radiance while I’m out?”

The bird in question is, for once, quietly sitting on top of her cage and playing with her toys, not causing even a _little_ bit of mischief.

“Dude,” Noctis says dismissively, “You take care of her _every day_ while I’m at work. I can handle her for a couple of hours.”

“I know, but…” He stops and shakes his head. “Anyway, I guess I’m off, then. See ya later, Noct. You be good, Squishums.”

“Later,” Noctis says, his voice slightly muffled around a mouthful of cereal.

“Bye bye,” Squishums says. “ _You_ be good.”

The last thing he hears before closing the door behind him is Noctis laughing and saying, “It’s a four-year-old’s birthday party. How much trouble is he going to get into?”

Not a lot, it would seem. The trains are all running on time, and he gets to the park with plenty of time to get set up. Luisa and her wife Helena are model clients—no unreasonable demands, none of that trying to get a “friends and family” discount. And if there’s any advantage to still practically _being_ a kid at twenty-five, it’s that Prompto is great with _actual_ kids. He’s getting some awesome shots, being able to make them laugh and smile for the camera.

Luisa tells him as much as the party is winding down, parents starting to gather up their children and shepherd them into cars. Helena is keeping an eye on her son and the other stragglers, so Prompto is going through the pictures on his camera’s small display screen for Luisa and the typical spiel about how he’ll touch them up digitally and send her the files within three to five days.

“The kids all responded really well to you today, do you have any?” Luisa asks, as Prompto is putting his equipment away.

He pauses, not having expected the personal question. “Uhh—no. That’s not likely to happen,” Prompto answers with a small laugh. To turn the subject away from himself, he asks, “How about you? I haven’t seen you in forever; how did you and Helena meet?”

Luisa smiles, and says, “She was my college roommate. I was in love with her for _years_ before I got the courage to say anything. Turns out she felt the same way. And… here we are.” She gestures at her wife, and the small group of children still playing on the park’s playground.

“Aww, cute,” Prompto says, smiling widely. “I guess I’m technically _still_ living with my college roommate, too.” He’s not sure why he volunteered the information, but there it is.

“Oh yeah?”

Digging himself in deeper, he goes on. “You remember Noctis, from school?”

“Lucis-Caelum? Helena and I both work for LucisTech, so it’s hard not to know my future boss,” she says, but her tone is light, not bitter.

“I’ve, uhh, been living with him for something like seven years now,” Prompto says, rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh, so you got together right after high school, then? You know, I always did wonder about you two…”

Prompto freezes, realizing that she’s misinterpreted him as saying that he and Noct are together—like, _together,_ together. Which they’re not. But there’s no way to backtrack now, so it’s time to dig that hole straight down to rock bottom. “Oh, you know how it goes,” he says lamely.

“Anyway, thanks again for agreeing to the shoot. No need for you to hang around now that the party’s over.”

 _Incredibly_ thankful that Luisa’s given him an out (maybe having picked up on his discomfort), Prompto shoulders his camera bag and says, “It was a lot of fun, Jackson’s a really cute kid. I’ll send you an email as soon as I have the photos touched up, okay?”

“Tell your boyfriend I said hi,” she says, and Prompto nearly trips and falls on his face.

He doesn’t remember walking back to the train station, getting on, or the ride home, but suddenly, he’s back in front of his own house.

He opens the door as quietly as he can, knowing that both Noctis and Squishums like to take afternoon naps. When he slips in, though, he finds that there was no need to have worried. Noct has his back to the door and doesn’t appear to have noticed Prompto come in. Squishums definitely perks up to see him, but she’s very contentedly cuddled against Noctis’ chest, her head peeking over his shoulder, and she doesn’t seem inclined to move or do anything to shift the attention away from her.

A smile creeps across Prompto’s face as he hears what Noctis is saying to the bird—the sort of nonsense praise that he’d probably be too embarrassed to voice aloud if he’d been aware that he had an audience.

“Oh, yes, who’s the best bird in the world? It’s you! You’re so beautiful and perfect.” Squishums interrupts the stream of praise and compliments to press her beak against the side of his face and make kissing noises, then looks back as if to make sure Prompto is watching, and of course he is—how could he look away? Noctis goes on, “Aww, thank you, you’re the best. You can give me kisses anytime.”

This is, without a doubt, another contender for the top spot in the competition for the most adorable thing Prompto has ever seen, but there’s a weird undercurrent he can’t shake. Prompto knows he’s not great at feelings in general, but especially his own, so he tries to just… not spend too much time analyzing them, but… is it jealousy? Is he jealous?

Well, that makes sense. _He_ could be the one having those good bird snuggles right now, but Noctis is getting them all.

Something about this conclusion rings as _not quite right._

Is it… is he jealous of _the bird?_

That’s ridiculous. Why would he be jealous of Her Radiance? He doesn’t want Noctis to hold him close and tenderly tell him that _he’s_ beautiful and perfect—his heart lurches at the thought, though. Shit, _does_ he want that?

Can’t be. He _knows_ what a crush feels like—it’s being all tongue-tied and lightheaded and not being able to think straight. Like how he gets around Cindy. This must just be what Luisa said getting to him.

But just in case, he should be sure. He thinks about what it would be like to kiss Noctis. They’re almost of a height, so he’d barely have to tilt his face up. He’d thread his fingers through Noct’s hair—he knows for a fact that it’s soft. Unfairly soft, actually, given the cheap-ass 2-in-1 shampoo he buys. Their lips would move together, as in-sync as everything about them has always been. Noct’s hands would go to his hips, pull their bodies flush together—

Prompto snaps out of it as the imagined sensation sends a very real thrill of heat through him. O… kay. Okay. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, either. He’s a young, red-blooded man, and it’s been… a while since he’s gotten laid. Years. Not since college, actually.

As much as he’d like to stop torturing himself and never think about this again, he knows he’s _got_ to figure this out. So he thinks, dial back the heat on the scenario a little bit, see if it still sounds good.

He imagines himself sitting on the couch late at night, watching a movie with Noctis, like he has a million times before. But this time, Noct’s head is in his lap, he’s more than half-asleep, and Prompto is playing with his hair—still criminally soft under his imagined touch. Imaginary Noct opens his eyes halfway, reaches a sleepy hand up to cup Prompto’s face, gently stroking it. Imaginary Prompto presses a kiss to the pad of Noct’s thumb, and, damn it, somehow this scenario sounds even _better_ than the last one.

Fuck. Okay. There’s one more thing he hasn’t considered. Maybe he’s just lonely and starved for intimacy, and anyone will do. So he tries imagining the last scenario again, but with Cindy instead of Noct and—ach, no, he can’t even picture it. Beyond that, he doesn’t want to.

So, that’s pretty definitive then. He definitely has a Thing for Noctis. And probably has for a while.

This could be… a problem.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have any more time to think about it, because Noctis has finally noticed that he’s back.

“Prom? When did you get home?”

“Long enough ago to hear you murmuring sweet nothings to the Queen,” he replies, hoping his voice sounds normal.

Noctis goes bright red, and Prompto can’t help but laugh—even after eleven years, he can still be so shy about this kind of thing. It reminds him a little of when they were in high school, and Noct had been _obsessed_ with looking and sounding cool, like the protagonists in his video games. Mostly, it had just made him seem like an even bigger dork, but Prompto hadn’t minded. He still doesn’t.

But when his laughter dies away, he doesn’t know what to say. Filling silences is kind of Prompto’s whole _thing,_ so he really has been thrown off balance by this introspection nonsense. This is why he doesn’t like to do it.

At length, he pats his camera bag and says, “I, uh, need to go work on the photos from the shoot, if you wanna keep snuggling the bird without an audience.”

“I was not—” Noctis says.

“Give kisses!” Her Radiance interrupts him. “Give kisses! Good bird!”

“You were saying?” Prompto asks, with a smile he hopes is cheeky and not nervous. Then, without another word, he heads down the hall to his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

He needs to process these feelings.

Instead, he works on the photos.

Prompto isn’t exactly proud of it, but he spends the next week sort of kind of extremely avoiding Noctis. He spends a lot of time in his bedroom, pretending to have a photography project to be working on. In reality, he’d finished the photos for Luisa the same day as the shoot, and has just been looking at memes on his laptop for the most part.

In the evenings, he finds things to do. He goes on extra runs. He goes grocery shopping. He goes to Wiz’s store for bird toys and treats _three times._ Even Wiz is beginning to cotton onto the fact that something is up.

Late in the week, Noctis has taken a day off work, since he has a dentist’s appointment in the morning. Prompto, completely coincidentally, decides that it’s really been too long since he put in an appearance in the office, and catches the early train out to Exineris Energy & Power. Holly starts when she sees him at his desk, which is covered in a fine layer of dust, looking almost like she’s seen a ghost.

He feels bad that he’s not spending as much time with Her Radiance as he has been the past seven weeks or so since he’d started fostering her, but... Well, this is an adjustment. It’s been hard to go from thinking the weird surges of affection he’s been feeling for the better part of a decade were strictly platonic to realizing that they aren’t. Like, at all. Not even a little bit.

He’s pretty stupid not to have realized it sooner, honestly. In retrospect, everything makes a lot more sense when viewed through the lens of ‘I have a massive fucking crush on Noctis Lucis-Caelum.’ The urge to lean into little touches, the way his heart flutters when they’re physically close together, the unique thrill of pride when Noct compliments his photos… His lack of interest in pursuing a real relationship with anyone else.

Yeah, that all makes a lot more sense, now.

Gods, he’s so stupid.

But at the same time, Prompto knows it would be even stupider to do anything. The thing he has with Noct? It’s good the way it is. Really good, and he’d be an idiot to go and make it weird. Besides, Noctis has Luna—the two of them have known each other approximately forever, and he always takes her to company dinners and stuff when he’s expected to have a date. To be honest, Prompto doesn’t know the exact nature of their relationship—it’s another thing Noct is weirdly shy about. That never bothered him until now. It _shouldn’t_ bother him now, because 1) it’s none of his business who his friend does or doesn’t date, 2) Luna is an absolute delight and anyone would be lucky to spend five minutes with her, and 3) nothing can happen between him and Noct. Ever.

Why did he have to go and catch feelings? Or rather, why did he have to catch _on_ to the fact that he’d caught feelings a long time ago?

He needs a little more time for this to become The New Normal, and then everything can go back to the way it was.

His phone beeps with a text, and when he checks it, it doesn’t look like the universe is going to _give_ him that time.

> Gladio: Hey! We’re going camping this weekend, clear your schedule.

Prompto desperately tries to think of an excuse, because yes, he’d love to hang out with his friends all weekend, but they’ll _definitely_ notice him acting weird around Noct. There’s one thing he can try…

Prompto: I’d better sit this one out to take care of Her Radiance. You guys have fun, though!

He stares at his phone until the reply pops up. It doesn’t take long.

> Gladio: Don’t worry about her. Iggy has a plan. We’ll swing by yours on Saturday morning.

Well, that’s that. If he protests now, it’ll just be suspicious.

Prompto: O...kay, whatever you say, big guy.

Gladio just sends him the thumbs up emoji in reply.

Well. Hopefully he, Prompto “High-Key” Argentum, will be able to play it cool.

...He’s going to be so weird, and they’re all going to notice.

 

Ignis and Gladio are over bright and early Saturday morning, as promised. And, as promised, they’ve brought a solution that will allow Prompto to go camping _and_ take care of Her Radiance.

“Okay, that’s adorable,” he says, gesturing at the object on the table.

“Isn’t it?” Ignis says, seeming quite pleased with himself. It’s a bright red backpack made of sturdy wire mesh, with a perch built in.

“And that’s not all,” Gladio adds. “Got a bigger cage in the car, for when we get to the beach. Wouldn’t want _The Queen_ to be cramped in that little thing all weekend. Still not as big as what she’s used to, but…” He trails off and shrugs.

“No, this is great,” Prompto says, forgetting his trepidation about the trip in his genuine excitement. “She’s going to love this, aren’t you, Squishums?”

The bird in question is looking at them intently. Prompto goes over and gets her to step onto his forearm, then takes her over to the table where the bird-backpack is. She seems wary of it at first, but when he thinks to drop a couple of grapes inside, she gets over her fear and climbs right in. She doesn’t even protest as he slowly closes it, giving her plenty of opportunity for escape if she freaks out.

Everything he’s read says that most birds are really scared of new objects. He guesses he just got lucky in that he ended up with one who’s only afraid of other birds.

“That was simple enough,” Ignis comments.

“Nothin’ to it,” Gladio agrees. “Well, you ready to go? Got a long drive ahead of us. Where’s Noct?”

“I’m ready. I dunno about Noct. You know how sleeping beauty can be in the morning.” He busies himself checking over his camera bag again to cover up his sudden blush. He’s called Noctis ‘sleeping beauty’ a million times before, but this time it feels weird.

“Do I ever,” Ignis says, already stalking off down the hall toward his bedroom door.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Noctis says, emerging from his room, fully dressed, before Ignis even has a chance to knock on the door.

“And ready to go?” Gladio asks.

“And ready to go,” Noctis confirms.

They load everything into the cars. Once upon a time, they could shove all their supplies into the trunk of Noct’s car and go, but that was when they’d done the cooking over a shitty little campstove and all crammed into one tent. Now they travel with Gladio’s giant dog, two tents, Noctis’ fishing gear, what amounts to a full kitchen’s worth of gadgets, and most recently, a large bird.

Simply put, they need two cars, now.

Prompto is nervous about having to spend the three-hour drive to the Galdin National Seashore alone with Noctis, but he’s saved by Ignis, asking if it’s alright if he rides with them.

“It’s not that I don’t like Molly; she’s very sweet…”

“But she thinks she’s a lapdog, and she weighs more than I do,” Prompto finishes.

“Exactly, yes.”

Ignis takes the passenger seat, and Prompto and Her Radiance load up in the back. He’s uncharacteristically quiet during the long ride, holding a couple of brief conversations with Ignis, even fewer, even more stilted ones with Noctis. Mostly, he occupies himself by playing on his phone, taking photos of the scenery out the window, and trying to keep the bird entertained—though that’s an easy enough task, as she seems to find the landscapes sliding by at speed to be endlessly fascinating, and stares enraptured out the window for almost the entire ride.

Prompto wishes he were that easily amused, but his eyes keep getting drawn to Noct’s face, the lines of his neck and jaw where he’s turned away, his eyes on the road. He’d been so delicate, almost bird-like himself, even just a few years ago. However, since graduating college, he’s started to fill out, shoulders broadening and jawline sharpening, looking more and more like his dad. It’s not a bad look, though. Not by half.

Prompto may be biased, though.

At long last, they reach their destination and park the cars. This place has been their go-to camping spot since Noct had turned eighteen and Regis had been willing to let him go on overnight trips alone. He’s always a little surprised that it’s never more crowded with people. The weather’s usually great, it’s right on the beach, and it’s absolutely gorgeous.

But, oh well. Their loss is his gain, because as usual, they seem to have the whole place to themselves again.

It’s a short walk from the parking spot to the campsite, but it still takes multiple trips to move all the gear. This part is easy. The four of them have been camping often enough over the years that they’re pros at pitching tents and setting up the other equipment. There’s a bit of a hiccup when Prompto and Gladio try to set up the collapsible birdcage, but they figure it out in the end, and before long, Squishums has been transferred from her backpack-carrier, and is happily exploring her temporary home.

The rest of the day is spent in leisure. Ignis has _three separate coolers_ full of food and is already prepping what he’s declared will be his “most elaborate campstove meal yet.” Prompto’s stomach rumbles at the thought. He’s going to eat well, tonight.

Gladio’s massive dog finds and equally massive piece of driftwood, and the two of them play fetch and wrestle tirelessly in the sand. Noct heads to the little fishing pier almost the instant they’re done setting up the equipment, occasionally throwing insincere complaints at Gladio and Molly about how they’re going to scare away all the fish.

Prompto’s given Noctis a lot of shit about how he has the hobby of a sixty-year-old man, and that fishing is _not_ a spectator sport, but honestly, it’s pretty great how into it he gets: his exclamations of triumph when he hooks something, how his whole body posture changes from languid to intense, how he (not so) subtly looks over his shoulder when he reels one in to see if anyone’s watching, grinning ear to ear, eager to show off.

Prompto’s usually watching, honestly. He probably couldn’t tell a swordfish from a tilapia, but he’s always willing to ooh and aah over whatever creature Noct summons from the depths. He’s always told himself that it’s only fair—Noct looks at his photos all the time; he can pretend to appreciate fishing once in a blue moon. But there’s probably a little more to it than that, in retrospect.

As for him, he does what he always does on these trips, trying to regain a sense of normalcy. He laughs and jokes with his friends, snapping photos the whole time, and entertains his bird. Well, she doesn’t need much entertainment—the novelty of being outside, safe in her carrier though she may be, has her thoroughly entranced. Whenever she sees a gull or a heron, though, she puffs up to twice her normal size and yells, “No! Bad birdie!” among other, less intelligible shrieks of rage.

Iris was _not_ kidding about her hating other birds, holy shit. It’s a riot to see it in action, though. He feels a little bad for laughing because Squishums does seem to be genuinely upset, but… it’s also hilarious. And she gets over it quickly, as soon as the wild birds pass out of her line of sight or she gets distracted by something else.

Idly, he looks through the photos he’s taken so far today. There are some great action shots of Gladio and Molly, a _ton_ of photos of Her Radiance, and some scary-yet-badass pictures of Ignis dual-wielding kitchen knives, only slightly ruined by the fact that his eyes are red and watery due to the fact that he’d been chopping onions when Prompto had snapped them. And, of course, there are a lot of pictures of Noctis. These are framed differently than the others, he realizes now that he’s looking for it. This one, where he’s unaware of the camera, looking contemplatively out over the water. This one, taken from behind, where his posture conveys a sense of languid ease he only shows around his friends. This one, where he’s half-grinning and sheepishly holding up the tiniest fish Prompto has ever seen him catch. These are all such intimate portraits. Pretty much anyone could look at them and immediately zero in on the fact that the photographer has a thing for his subject.

He considers deleting them, but honestly? It’s not like they’re any different than the kinds of photos he’s been taking of Noct for years, so what’s the point?

He’s about to look through the photos for the fourth time when Ignis calls him over. “Prompto, you don’t look busy. Can you help me for a few minutes?”

Happy enough for the distraction, he says, “Sure, Ig,” and sets his camera down, stirring and chopping where commanded.

It’s still pretty early when dinner’s ready, but everyone is hungry enough that there are no complaints. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Ignis has managed to cook something that would make any five-star chef feel threatened, and he’s done it using nothing but camping equipment. Top-of-the-line camping equipment, sure, but _still_ . There’s surprisingly little conversation over dinner—a sign that the food is really, _really_ good, and no one wants to stop eating it long enough to say anything.

After dinner and the associated cleanup, Prompto’s fingers start itching for his camera. The golden hour is at hand, and he has a feeling they’re in for a glorious sunset. There’s a nature photography contest he’s been thinking about entering, and some pictures from the bluff overlooking the beach would be perfect.

“Can I ask y’all a favor?” He asks, picking up his camera and standing up.

“What’s that?” Gladio asks. “Taking off?”

“Yeah,” he says, “That bluff up there is just _begging_ me to take some photos from it, y’know? Anyway, would you mind keeping an eye on the Queen?”

Ignis stands up too, reaches into one of the coolers, and emerges with a bunch of grapes. “I would love nothing more than to spend the evening entertaining royalty.”

Squishums has spotted the grapes and is bouncing up and down in anticipation. Grinning, Prompto says, “Thanks, Iggy.”

Noctis is already halfway to his feet as well. “Want some company?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Prompto says, hoping he sounds nonchalant and not desperate. “I know hiking’s not your thing.”

He looks uncertain, but sits back in his folding chair. With a wave, Prompto takes off. He figures it’ll take him about an hour to climb to the top of the promontory and get the shots he wants. After only about five minutes of walking, however, he hears hurried footsteps behind him, and throws a glance over his shoulder.

“I changed my mind,” Noct says, falling into step with him.

Prompto points at the steep rocky path ahead of them and says, “You’re willingly climbing that, dude?”

“I guess I felt like stretching my legs?” Noct replies, clearly trying to pretend he isn’t a little bit winded from the brief jog to catch up to Prompto. “And besides, I _distinctly_ remember you whining for like four hours that time Gladio took us rock climbing, so don’t act like you’re all excited to hike up there.”

Prompto can’t help but grin sheepishly. Noct’s right, of course. “Yeah, but you also know there’s very little I won’t go through to get the perfect shot. With a little complaining along the way, naturally. So at least _I_ have an excuse.”

“A little?” Noctis scoffs, ignoring the last part of Prompto’s jab.

“Just a little,” he confirms.

They both laugh, and for a second things are normal again. Maybe Prompto can do this, _can_ be normal around him— Then, Noct puts a hand up, claps him on the shoulder. It’s a friendly gesture; he’s done is a million times, but the tips of his fingers brush his neck above the collar of his shirt, barely there sparks of electricity, and it takes serious willpower not to flinch away—because the other option is to melt into the touch, and he can’t let himself do that. Judging by the way Noct quickly pulls his hand back, he’s not entirely sure he succeeded.

Once they start climbing the bluff itself, there’s not much opportunity for conversation. It’s a steep, tricky path, and Prompto’s drenched in sweat and out of breath before they’re halfway to the top. He may go running five times a week, but this is completely different, and not in a good way.

The climb is a race against the sunset, but when Prompto finally takes the final steps to the top, trembling, exhausted, nearly dying from thirst, the first streaks of rose gold have just started to appear in the west. His timing is _perfect,_ and that makes it all worth it. After a quick breather, and checking in on Noctis, he starts snapping photos of everything that catches his eye.

He gets the water, painted gold by the setting sun, the beach, god-rays of striated light throwing it into subtle chiaroscuro, shorebirds backlit by the setting sun. He turns his camera around landward and takes a few shots that way, rolling coastal hills and more rock formations like the one he’s standing on. Inevitably, he ends up focusing on Noctis, who has collapsed on his back in the tall grass, eyes half-closed so that his lashes cast shadows onto his cheeks.

“Thought you were supposed to be taking photos of the view,” Noct says, when he realizes that the camera is aimed at him.

 _I am,_ Prompto thinks. Aloud, he says, “I can’t help it; I’m a portrait photographer at heart.”

Noct snorts, and says, “Well, then get one of both of us, at least. After that climb, we deserve something to commemorate it.” He doesn’t make any effort to get off the ground, though.

“Will you at least get up so the scenery we _made_ that awful climb for will be in the shot?” He asks.

“Mm, nah, too tired,” Noct says, and Prompto rolls his eyes fondly.

“Fine.” With that, he lowers himself onto the grass and scoots over next to Noctis, as close as he can get without touching him, and raises his camera to take a selfie. Noct closes the remaining distance himself so that their shoulders and upper arms are pressed together, and Prompto focuses on not dropping his camera on their faces.

When he shows Noctis the photo on the camera’s display, Noct snorts and asks, “Dude, what is your face _doing?_ ”

“Better question: what is your _hair_ doing?” Prompto deflects.

Noctis breathes a laugh and doesn’t reply.

Prompto turns the camera back to photo mode and takes a few pictures of herons flying directly overhead, dark against the pink-and-lavender sky above.

“I wanted to run something by you,” Noctis says, apropos of nothing. Prompto isn’t sure why this makes his heart race, but it does.

“O-Oh yeah?”

“I was getting some filters changed in my car yesterday, and Cindy was asking about, and I quote, ‘that big ol’ goofy-lookin’ bird.’” Prompto can’t help but laugh at Noct’s impression of Cindy’s country accent. He goes on, “So I may have implied that she could come over for dinner one night to properly meet Her Radiance, and also so you could have a chance to _actually_ talk to her?” He elbows Prompto helpfully, grinning.

Prompto’s smile becomes forced, and he can’t bring himself to reply.

After a long moment, Noctis says, “This is when you tell me how I’m the best wingman ever and thank me for setting you up with the woman you’ve been into for years?”

He laughs, his voice high and nervous. “I dunno man,” he dissembles, “I guess I’m more the admiring from afar type, when we get right down to it.”

“You don’t even wanna _try?_ What if you two really hit it off?” Noct asks. Out of his periphery, Prompto can see that he’s turned his head, facing Prompto. He can’t meet that stare this close, so he just keeps looking up at the sky, and the birds that occasionally fly by, looking at the world with his camera as a buffer between it and him.

He has to say something, though. Any sort of cheap cop-out is better than silence. So he shrugs as much as he can, lying on the hard ground, and says, “I guess I’m scared of commitment.”

Noct stares at him for a long time with those midnight eyes of his, expression inscrutable, but doesn’t say anything. After a moment, Prompto makes some excuse about wanting to take a few more pictures now that the sunset is a little more dramatic, and gets up to do just that.

When they get back to the campsite, it’s full dark. The summer night is too warm for a campfire, so they return to find Ignis and Gladio sitting around a lantern, talking softly. Noctis goes over to join them, but Prompto is genuinely exhausted both from the physical exertion of the past few hours and the emotional… whatever this has been of the past few days.

So, when he says that he’s tired and is going to go straight to bed, it’s not entirely an evasion tactic. Just mostly. Somewhere in the vicinity of 80-20, really.

He moves Her Radiance into the tent with him. It serves a dual purpose—to protect her from the wild animals that might bother her during the night, and to keep him from being _entirely_ alone with Noctis again.

In the darkness of the tent she settles down and goes to sleep almost immediately, but Prompto doesn’t have as much luck.

It feels like hours that he lies there, limbs and eyelids leaden, mind too active to let him fall asleep. He listens to the sounds of his friends on the other side of the thin fabric, speaking in low tones about nothing in particular.

Ignis is the next to go to bed, bidding the other two goodnight.

“Molly, go keep him company,” Gladio says.

“No, I’m fine,” Ignis insists, but from the scrabble of claws on tent fabric and the loud _oof_ Prompto hears seconds later, he can only assume that the protests were in vain and Ignis is being cuddled by a large friendly dog whether he likes it or not. There are worse fates, he thinks, as he stifles a giggle.

It’s not long after that that Noct speaks up. “Hey, Gladio, can I talk to you about something?”

“Hm?” Gladio replies, his voice a soft rumble. “Judging by the look on your face, it’s not anything good.”

There’s a sound like Noct is kicking sand, probably trying to avoid eye contact. It’s a thing he does when he’s nervous, Prompto knows. He wonders what this could be about. Probably nothing he should be eavesdropping on, he thinks, and makes an effort to tune out of the conversation.

“It’s dumb, and it’s probably nothing, but it’s about Prompto.”

Actually, he will be dropping _every_ eave, and he has never been so focused on a conversation before in his life.

“What about him?”

“He’s been acting _weird_ lately.”

“Is he sick?”

“I don’t think so—he’s still going on all those runs, so… I don’t know what to think.”

“You’re the Prompto whisperer, not me… But yeah, the little guy _has_ been kinda… subdued, I guess is the word, all day today.”

“Not just today. He’s been like that for a week, and I swear he’s avoiding me. I had a day off from work and he just so happened to need to go into the office for the first time in, like, four months that very same day.” He sounds frustrated, and more than that, _hurt,_ and Prompto winces.

“Could be a coincidence?” Noctis doesn’t say anything, so after a moment, Gladio relents. “You’re right, though, that is pretty weird.”

There’s another long pause, and Noct asks, in a small voice, “Do you think it’s something I did?”

“I dunno, Noct,” Gladio says. “Do you remember doing anything that might have upset him?”

“No. Everything was fine, and normal, and great, and then…” There’s a brief exchange between them that’s too soft for Prompto to make out the words.

The next sentence he can make out is Gladio asking, “So… you still… You know...”

Noctis sighs, exasperated, and says, “ _Yes,_ Gladio, that kind of thing doesn’t just go away because it’s inconvenient, okay?”

“Just checking, Noct, chill.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Noctis replies after a moment.

“I know it’s not your _thing,_ but have you tried… talking to him?”

Noctis doesn’t answer, and Prompto and imagine the stubborn, sullen look that he always gets when someone offers him good advice he doesn’t want to take. It would make him want to laugh if he didn’t kind of want to die right now.

God, how did he not consider that his immature, emotionally-stunted way of dealing with his crush on his best friend would _also_ end up hurting Noct? He’s never been great at this kind of thing, sure, but this lack of foresight was on a new level of stupid, even for him.

He’s got to do better. His feelings are _his_ problem, and it had been wrong of him to make them Noct’s for the past week.

The guilt is a knot in his stomach, loosened only by this new resolve, when he finally manages to fall asleep.

After the camping trip, Prompto makes a sincere effort to make things go back to normal. He stops avoiding Noctis, stops acting like his touch will burn him, tries to strive for the level of physical and emotional intimacy they’ve always had in their friendship. He spends the first few days worried sick that this is just going to make it obvious to Noct that, hello, surprise, his best friend is really into him, but he just seems relieved to that things are normal again, too.

They don’t talk about The Week That Prompto Acted Like A Total Nutcase. It’s easier to just pretend it didn’t happen.

Squishums is definitely glad that her two humans aren’t walking on eggshells, anymore. Prompto hadn’t realized that she’d picked up on the weird energy, but the difference is apparent, now that it’s gone. She’s spending less time being standoffish and more time talking up a storm, stealing food from off their plates, and begging for cuddles and attention. Just like a bird should.

Prompto really messed up for a while, there.

Well, at least he can make up for it, now.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and he’s just finishing up his last task for work when Noct gets home. Squishums is on his shoulder, alternating between preening her wing feathers and his hair. They both look over at him.

He doesn’t even stop to say hello before going back to his bedroom.

Uh-oh. That means he’s in a _mood._ These were common when he was a teenager, but Noctis is twenty-five, now. These days, he only gets like this when something really bad happened at work. Sometimes it’s better to leave him alone when he’s like this, and sometimes it’s not. Unfortunately, there’s only one way to find out which it is.

He quickly finishes typing the email he’d been working on, sends it, and sets his laptop aside. With Her Radiance still clinging to his shoulder, Prompto walks to the end of the hall and knocks lightly on Noctis’ door.

“Hey, Noct? Everything okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” comes the clipped answer, a sure sign that all is _not_ fine.

“Do you want company?”

“Would I be in here by myself if I did?”

“Okay, dude, just thought I’d ask,” Prompto says, and turns around to go back to the living room. There’s no reply from the closed door at his back.

“What’s the matter?” Squishums asks, her tone eerily reminiscent of Prompto’s—she must have picked this phrase up from him. “Bad birdie?”

“He’s not a bad birdie, he’s just having a rough day,” Prompto says, not sure why he feels the need to defend Noct to a cockatoo.

“Have a grape?” She suggests.

“I’m not sure a grape would help,” Prompto replies. “Although…” Ordering delivery from Noct’s favorite restaurant certainly wouldn’t _hurt,_ and it would at least make him come out of his angst cave.

“Actually, you’re a genius,” he tells Her Radiance, giving her a kiss on her cheek.

“Give kisses!” she agrees, making the appropriate sound effects. He deposits her on top of her cage and gets her a handful of grapes out of the fridge as a reward, then leaves her to them while he orders the food.

It shows up about an hour later, and Prompto tips the delivery girl extra for seeming genuinely delighted when she gets yelled at by the giant bird across the room.

When he’s got the food sorted out on the table, he goes back to Noct’s room and knocks again.

“What?”

“I got you dinner from that place you like. It’s that chicken and egg over rice thing you always get. No onions.”

There’s no response for a moment. Then, Noctis opens the door, looking no happier than he did earlier, and mutters, “Thanks.”

Prompto half-expects him to take his styrofoam container back to his room and retreat into isolation mode, but he sits down at the table to eat. Maybe he does secretly want to talk about it.

Prompto joins him and starts on his own food, wanting to ask, but knowing that pushing could cause Noctis to close up tighter.

In the end, it’s Her Radiance who gets him to crack. She flies over to alight on top of his head, and leans over to start preening his eyebrows.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, and it makes Noct smile.

“Dude, she sounds _just_ like you when she says that,” he says. He puts his fork down to reach up and give the bird a quick head scratch, which she leans into.

“I’m just glad she decided to pick that phrase up from me and nothing involving the word ‘fuck,’” Prompto says. “She’s in the room when we play video games, so I know she hears it enough.”

“Fuck?” Squishums asks helpfully.

“Absolutely not,,” Noctis says in a gravely offended tone.

“Language, young lady,” Prompto says at the same time.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Squishums exclaims, and laughs, bouncing up and down on Noct’s head, apparently enjoying the dramatic response she got to this new fun word.

“I suppose I asked for this,” Prompto says with a sigh.

Noctis holds up a hand for the bird to step up onto and moves her from his head to the table, where she tries to steal bites of his dinner until he distracts her by giving her a plastic toy to chew on instead—they’ve got them scattered all across the house now, for this very purpose.

Once she’s thoroughly occupied with her toy, Prompto dares to ask, “What happened at work today that’s got you so bummed out?”

Noct sighs, picking at his food again. He doesn’t say anything for long enough that Prompto is about to start babbling about something else just to fill the silence, but finally he drops the bomb. “My dad wants me to work in the Lestallum branch office for a year, to get a feel for how things are run out there. Not right away. Sometime next year. But still.”

Oh. That’s. It takes a full day to get to Lestallum from Insomnia by train. Probably less by car, but Prompto doesn’t have one of those. He’s been out there once or twice because that’s where the main office for Exineris Energy & Power is located.

He’s started thinking out loud before he even realizes he’s doing it. “Okay, that’s a lot, but we can make it work. It would kind of suck to leave Iggy and Gladio behind, but if we start looking for rental houses now, I’m sure we could find something nice. And I bet Her Radiance would love the clear mountain air, and all the wild birds to yell at, right? I’d have to talk to Holly about being transferred to the main office, but I’m sure they’d let me do it if it’s on a temporary basis, and—”

Noctis cuts him off. “You’d come with me? You know you don’t have to.”

Prompto stops dead. Honestly, he’d never even _considered_ the idea that Noctis could move across the country without him. That he’d stay here, alone, while Noct did his Big Business Boy thing. Of course that’s the most logical solution. The one least disruptive to the life he’s built here in Insomnia. But he hates it.

So he just shrugs and says, “And let you get fired from your own company because there’s no one there to make you get out of bed on time in the morning? Fat chance, dude. You’re stuck with me.”

Noctis stares at him, and after a while he shakes his head, a smile creeping across his face. He lets out a deep breath, and when he returns to eating his food, it looks like almost all of the tension that he’d been carrying since he’d gotten home has been released.

In a loose sense of the word, Prompto is an employee of LucisTech. LucisTech acquired Exineris Energy & Power around the time he was in middle school, making it a subsidiary company, but EEP is still pretty much allowed to run independently, so it doesn’t really mean much. He doesn’t think about it often.

He’s only ever really reminded of it when he ends up on Regis Lucis-Caelum’s direct payroll. This happens once every couple of months or so, when LucisTech holds one of its charity dinners. It’s the typical sort of corporate philanthropy PR thing—they invite a bunch of rich people, make them pay a ton of money for dinner and entertainment, take donations, and the company matches the amount of money raised for whatever the cause of the month is.

This time, it would seem Prompto has inspired the most powerful man in Insomnia, because the proceeds of the dinner will be going to the animal shelter. Regis had hinted at having Her Radiance attend as a ‘guest of honor,’ but Noct said he’d shut that idea down pretty fast. She’d be too scared with all the strangers and noise. Prompto thinks this was a good call.

The other way Prompto fits into this is that Regis regularly hires him to photograph these events. At a rate _well_ above what he typically charges, not that he’s complaining.

He’d tried to protest at first, actually, but Regis had insisted that “finding a photographer who can actually make it look like Noct is enjoying himself at these wretched things is priceless.”

After that, he’d shut up and taken the money.

They’re both getting ready for the dinner now. Prompto’s glad that, as the photographer, he doesn’t have to dress quite as formally as the guests, so he’s just in an ocean-blue dress shirt and gray slacks, silver floral-print tie draped around his neck but not tied yet.

Noctis, on the other hand, is in a three piece suit, and is looking _stunning._ He’s not happy about it, though. Tugging on the sleeves of his shirt under his jacket to adjust his cufflinks, he says, for the eighth time this evening, “I hate these things.”

“I know, Noct. But, hey! At least you get to see Luna! I know you haven’t gotten to hang out with her much since she started med school.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Noctis says noncommittally, even though Prompto _knows_ he’s excited to see her. He ignores the weird crawling sensation in his stomach at the thought. There’s no reason for him to feel bad about it. Best just… not to think about it. As if reading his mind, Noctis changes the subject by asking, “Do you think Her Radiance has enough to entertain herself while we’ll be out?”

Prompto looks over at the birdcage, and the new puzzle toy he’d gotten from Wiz’s shop a few days before. It’s stuffed with cashews and grapes, her two favorite things, and she’s absolutely enthralled by it.

“She’ll be fine. Should we head over to the venue?”

“If we must,” Noct reluctantly agrees, punctuating it with a long-suffering sigh, and Prompto rolls his eyes fondly and punches him lightly on the shoulder.

They load up into Noct’s car and he starts the drive over.

Prompto decides, somewhat impulsively, to bring up a risky subject while he has Noctis as a captive audience. “So, uh, I know you hate these things, but if you’re taking over your dad’s company it seems like you’ll have to be doing, you know, a _lot_ of them, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Noctis replies.

“I’ve never really asked… do you even _want_ to become the next owner-slash-CEO of LucisTech?”

Noct doesn’t reply for a while, and Prompto’s afraid he’s crossed a line. He’s realized lately that there are a lot of things that they just don’t talk about, despite how close they are. This is one of them.

“I don’t know,” he says, at length. “You’d think by now I would, but I don’t. I guess I’ve never really thought I had any other options, and it’s too late to do anything else, now.”

It’s Prompto’s turn to go quiet, to weigh his words. Finally, he replies, “If you told your dad that you wanted to do something else with your life, I’m sure he would understand.”

Noctis grits his teeth and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “Yeah, I know he would, but… I’m not sure I want to do this, but I’m not sure I want to do anything else, either? If that even makes sense?”

It does, so Prompto nods encouragingly. He continues, “And LucisTech employs, like, _so_ many people. I try not to think of the numbers because it’s kind of terrifying, honestly. Those are people who could be seriously hurt if someone else takes over and fucks the company up, you know? Cutting benefits, layoffs, wage stagnation… I don’t want any of that. I mean, I guess I could fuck it up too, but...” He trails off, sounding uncertain.

“If you want something done right, do it yourself?” Prompto suggests, quoting the old aphorism with a grin. His own feelings on corporate greed and capitalism in general aside, he respects Noct’s sentiment.

“I guess so,” Noctis says, slowing down as he approaches the parking garage for the venue.

“Well, if it’s any help, I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

His shoulders actually _do_ relax a little, hearing that. “Thanks, Prom.”

With that, he parks the car and they take the elevator to the hotel ballroom where the event will be taking place. At that point, they’re separated. Noctis meets up with his dad to go over the any final preparations before the dinner starts, and Prompto coordinates with the other photographer that’s been hired for the evening—an older fellow who clearly looks down on him for his youth and peppy demeanor, which is annoying, but something he can deal with.

The event begins right on time, and goes as smoothly as these things can. The elite of Insomnia in their sparkly dresses and tailored suits eat food that probably isn’t as good as Ignis’ and drink champagne out of little crystal glasses. Prompto captures their images in his camera, _trying_ not to get too many of Noct—but it’s hard not to focus on him when he looks so good in that midnight blue suit, arm in arm with Luna, who’s looking equally elegant in a high-necked sleeveless cream lace gown.

She makes the time to greet Prompto, even though he’s supposed to be more-or-less invisible in his role, here. That’s just the kind of person she is. If she and Noct _are_ a thing, he’s not sure what Noct did to deserve her. And he says that as someone who’s heels-over-head for Noctis himself.

After the food is served, Regis, with awkward support from Noct, who still _really_ needs to work on his public speaking skills, explain the cause and tell a little bit about the animal shelter and the good that it does for the homeless pets of Insomnia. Regis ends his speech by introducing a slideshow featuring adoptable animals.

He’s inexplicably shocked to see Her Radiance on it.

Prompto knew, when he offered to foster the cockatoo, that it was a temporary thing, and that she could be adopted by a permanent home at any time. But the more time he spent with her, the less he thought about that. By now, he’s really started to think of her as _his_ bird.

Okay… Okay. He’s got a job to do right now, but he’s going to have to think about this more, later.

He raises the camera and tries not to think of how he feels when Noctis smiles at Luna, or when the slideshow repeats, and the photo of Her Radiance with it.

The day after the charity dinner, a Friday, Prompto calls Iris. She picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Prompto. What’s up?”

“Hey, Iris. You got a minute?”

“Sure. Everything okay?” She sounds concerned. His voice must be as shaky as he feels. He’s really nervous to hear the results of this conversation.

“It’s about Her Radiance—uhh, the bird?”

“Is she okay?”

“Oh, yeah! She’s great! I was wondering, actually, if anyone’s been trying to adopt her.”

Iris _hmm_ s, and says, “I know a couple people have called about her, but nothing serious. It’s the same issue we had finding a foster—they hear about her weird other-bird-hating thing and back off. I guess they’ve all had other birds or wanted other birds.”

“Oh… that’s… too bad,” Prompto says, knowing he sounds utterly delighted.

Iris doesn’t say anything for a second, then asks, “Are _you_ thinking of adopting her?”

“I’m not sure. But maybe?” It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud since getting the idea in his head the night before.

“Well, I support you either way. Keep me posted!”

“I will. Thanks, Iris.” He looks over at the bird in question, and finds her on the couch, purposefully striding toward his work laptop with its tempting keyboard out in the open, just waiting for her beak. Quickly, he says, “Gotta go, talk to you later.”

“Bye,” she says, and disconnects. He pockets his phone and swoops in just in time to rescue the laptop from Her Radiance.

“Bad birdie!” she scolds him for ruining her fun.

“And to think, I’m contemplating keeping you for the rest of my life,” he says. Because it _will_ be that long, if he adopts her. According to her paperwork, Squishums is eleven years old. Cockatoos often live to be in their eighties, so there’s a significant chance that she’ll outlive Prompto.

And she’ll be _like this_ for the rest of his life. It’s simultaneously the most wonderful and the most daunting thought he’s ever had.

He sets the laptop somewhere safe and goes to the fridge to get her favorite treat.

“Here, I’m sorry for not letting you destroy company property. Can I make it up to you with a grape?”

Squishums wiggles in delight, fluffing out her feathers. He sits down on the couch with her and holds out the grape.

“I love you!” she declares before accepting the fruit, and Prompto clutches his hand over his chest, tears coming to his eyes. He’s going to have a fucking heart attack. Fuck. That was so cute.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Squishums takes a break from the grape she’s holding to bump her beak against his knee, saying, “Boop.”

Okay, there’s no doubt about it, anymore. He wants to keep this bird for the rest of his goddamn life.

Assuming, of course, that he can get Noct on board.

 

When Noctis gets home that day, Prompto again has food from his favorite restaurant waiting for him.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was this about?” Noctis aks after eating the offered food, disposing of the container, and moving to the couch.

“It was a bribe,” Prompto says without thinking, and joins him. “Because I want to adopt Her Radiance permanently and that means you’ll have to deal with her too, and I know that’s a big commitment that you’re stuck with because of my choices, but she’s the best bird in the world and she told me she loves me, which was the cutest thing in the _world,_ and I just _can’t_ let anyone else adopt her, Noct, I _can’t_ —”

“Of course, Prom,” Noctis says so easily and quickly that Prompto doesn’t know why he was worried. “I know she’s technically your bird, but I think she’s great, too.”

“Oh,” Prompto says. “I—thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” Noct says, but his voice has gone soft, the way it does when something’s bothering him.

“What’s the matter?” Prompto asks, a sentiment echoed by Squishums a second later in the exact same tone. Even this isn’t enough to make Noctis smile.

Noct takes a deep breath and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then closes it with enough force that Prompto can hear the faint _click_ of his teeth snapping together. Another breath, another false start. On the third time, he finally manages to get the words out, and it’s like a dam breaking.

“I don’t get it, Prompto. I don’t understand. When I tried to set you up with Cindy, you told me you were scared of commitment, but when I said I might have to go to Lestallum for a full _year,_ you were immediately on board. Without even a second thought. And now, you want to adopt a bird that’s probably going to outlive both of us—not that I’m complaining. It’s just. Those aren’t the kind of things that someone who’s scared of commitment _does,_ Prom, and I don’t get it. What’s the _deal_?”

Prompto’s floored. He’d had no idea that Noctis had given so much thought to the bullshit excuse he’d given, back then.

His lips feel numb and his heart is in his throat as he says, “I guess I’m not scared when it’s something I really want.”

Noctis is close to him, had leaned in all through his speech. Prompto can feel the words as much as hear them when Noct murmurs, “And what _is_ it you want, Prompto?”

He locks eyes with Noctis, and _gods,_ they’re so, so close. It’s unmistakable, the way Noctis’ eyes flick down to Prompto’s mouth. He can’t breathe. Without really thinking about it, he tilts his face slightly, invitingly, and parts his lips. The scant centimeters between them are electric.

Then, there’s a flutter of wings, and suddenly a large white bird is clinging to the front of Prompto’s shirt, her wings splayed out. She’d clearly been aiming for his shoulder and missed.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, when she finishes the climb to her destination and picks up on the tension between her humans.

“Sorry, I need to go… wash… my… cactus,” Noctis says, and gets up, snatching his car keys from the kitchen table and disappearing through the front door.

“Well, fuck,” Prompto says, lowering his face into his hands.

“Fuck?” the bird asks.

“Yeah, Squishums. Fuck.”

Noctis doesn’t come back to the house during the next hour. Or the hour after that. Prompto spends this time, in a word, panicking. He’d been too obvious, Noct had caught onto the fact that Prompto is into him, and had gotten freaked out and left. He’s ruined everything.

Another hour passes, and Noctis still doesn’t return.

Night falls, and still no Noctis. He puts Squishums to bed and retreats to his bedroom. There’s got to be _something_ he can do about this situation. Some way to salvage more than a decade of friendship.

Prompto grimaces and reaches for his phone. There’s always one person he can trust to talk sense into him.

He dials Ignis.

He answers on the second ring. “Prompto, you almost never call this late. What trouble has Noct gotten himself into?”

Prompto laughs nervously, and says, “Actually, Iggy, it’s me who’s gotten himself into trouble.”

“How much bail money do I need to bring?”

“Not that kind of trouble! Although now that you mention it, if I were arrested, you probably _would_ be the first person I’d call.” He’s grateful for the tangent into a momentary distraction.

“I’m flattered, but you should really reserve that honor for a lawyer,” Ignis says casually, “Anyway, if you’re not in jail, what kind of trouble _is_ this?”

“It’s. Uh. The decade-long-friendship-ending kind?” Prompto answers weakly, returning to the problem at hand.

“Oh, dear. I’ve a feeling I should sit down for this one.”

“Yeah, probably. It’s all fucked up, Iggy.”

“What happened, Prompto?” Ignis asks, his voice soft.

It takes a lot of circumlocution, but Prompto eventually explains the situation—he’s got a huge crush on Noctis, he thinks Noctis figured that out, now it’s weird, and it’s going to ruin the dynamic of their friendship.

When he winds down, Ignis has some very simple words of advice for him: “Prompto, you’re an idiot. For the love of all the is good, will you, _for once,_ just _talk to Noctis?_ ”

“I—”

“Yes, I _know,_ talking isn’t what either of you _do,_ but just this once, _please._ You’re both taking years off my life. Goodnight.”

And with that, he hangs up.

With that straightforward and surprisingly vitriolic advice in hand, Prompto goes to bed. He’s not sure why he thought talking to Ignis would help. If anything, he feels _worse_ than he did earlier.

After all, he can’t talk to Noct if he won’t come home.

Noctis does come home, though. It’s just not until the following morning. Closer to noon, actually. Prompto’s in the kitchen prepping some veggies for himself and Squishums to share, so he can’t even hide in his room and pretend he didn’t hear him come in.

Noct comes bearing gifts, a large bag with the logo of the upscale bakery near Gladio’s place, which he sets deliberately on the counter. Some sort of conciliatory offering, probably. Prompto takes all this in while he desperately tries to avoid eye contact.

Finally, almost in unison, they both say, “I think we need to talk.”

They do make eye contact then, each waiting for the other to work up the nerve to speak.

Noctis is the one who does first, though, taking a few steps forward so that there’s no more than a meter between them.

“So… I went to Gladio’s last night after…” He trails off, blushing a pretty pink, and finally plows on. “I told him what happened and he said I was an idiot and I should just talk to you. That I should be honest.”

 _‘And?’_ Prompto wants to say, but he holds his tongue.

“He was actually a _lot_ meaner about it than that. But. Um, anyway. I guess he was right. So.” He pauses, clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and shifts from foot to foot. If he’d been talking to anyone else, Prompto would have made fun of him for it. “Fuck, it’s hard to come out with it after all this time… I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

Squishums, who had been watching the whole exchange from her perch on top of her cage, offers a helpful, “I love you?”

Noctis turns a deeper shade of red, and in a voice barely more than a whisper agrees, “Yeah, pretty much that.”

 _Prompto.exe has stopped working. Would you like to end the program or wait for it to respond?_ Is the nonsensical message that keeps replaying in his mind. He should say something. He _needs_ to say something. The silence between them is getting too long, but Prompto, who’s known for babbling and talking too much, has been struck speechless.

He knows he’s waited too long when he sees the look of anguish come across Noct’s face and he starts to turn away, to open his mouth for what’s sure to be an apology, so Prompto snaps out of it, lunging forward to grab Noct’s hand before he can turn too far.

“H-hard same, dude!” he says lamely, in what has to be the _worst_ confession of all time.

“Really?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know… I only figured it out recently. That’s why I was acting so weird last month.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Noctis breathes.

“How long for you?”

“Years. Since college. Maybe longer?”

“ _Dude_ ,” Prompto says, softly but with feeling. He still hasn’t let go of Noct’s hand, and he rubs his thumb over the knuckles gently. A thought strikes him. “Wait, what about Luna?”

“What about her?”

“Aren’t you two, you know… a thing?”

Noct looks at him, incredulous. “No? Never? I mean, I had a crush on her when I was, like, _nine_ , but we’re just friends, Prom.”

Prompto chuckles awkwardly, and says, “I guess that’s what I get for assuming… Gods, and I was so jealous, even though I knew it was stupid of me.”

Noctis lets out a breath that turns into a laugh, and says. “That _was_ stupid.” He shakes his head, squeezing Prompto’s hand, and the silence starts to grow long before he speaks again. “I don’t know what to do, now. I never thought I’d get here.”

Ever present with the helpful suggestions, Her Radiance says, “Give kisses!” They both look at the bird, and then back at each other. Noct is blushing again, and Prompto can feel his own cheeks heating up.

“Are we gonna let a bird order us around?” He asks with a nervous laugh.

“She, uh, seems to have good ideas today,” Noct says, not quite meeting Prompto’s eyes.

“I mean—who are we to disobey a direct order from the Queen?” Prompto says, going for levity, but he’s not quite sure he hits the mark.

“You have a point,” Noct says, and he takes a tentative step toward Prompto. Prompto mirrors it, and then they’re as close as they were last night, but with a lot more clear air between them.

With a tenderness that’s almost painful, Noctis moves his free hand up to cup Prompto’s face, brushing his fingers over freckled cheekbones and studying him like he wants to memorize the moment. Every nerve in Prompto’s body feels simultaneously numb and ablaze with anticipation.

Finally, he can’t wait anymore, and he’s the one to close the distance between them, pressing their lips together clumsily. He’s shaking with nerves, and so is Noct, and it’s not even a _good_ kiss, not really. The angle is all wrong and their noses are mushed together, but at the same time, it’s perfect.

In the background the whole time, Squishums is providing overly dramatic kissing sound effects. A few seconds of that is apparently too much for both of them, because Prompto is trying to hold in a laugh, and he can feel Noct smile against his lips—and gods, _that’s_ an amazing enough sensation in and of itself. There’s a momentary jolt of disappointment when he pulls back, but it’s just to wrap an arm around Prompto’s waist and press his face into his neck, laughing softly. It’s contagious, and Prompto starts giggling, too, bringing a hand up and sinking his fingers into the soft hair at the base of Noctis’ neck, just because he _can_.

“Thank you for the commentary,” Prompto tells Her Radiance, who replies with an excited shriek.

“Couldn’t have done it without your support,” Noctis says, raising his head to look at her.

“Give kisses! Give kisses!” Squishums demands again, flapping her wings exuberantly.

“If you insist, Your Radiance,” Prompto says, and pulls Noct back in for another kiss. It’s much better this time, both in terms of angles and positioning, and in terms of him not being _quite_ so fucking terrified as he had been the first time around. He relaxes into it by degrees, melting into the soft friction of Noct’s lips on his own, the warm pressure of hands on his waist, the sudden sensation of claws on his shoulder and wings flapping against his face—wait, no, that’s the bird. She has, apparently, flown over to join the party. Prompto pulls back just in time for her to shove her beak in between their noses.

“Give kisses _Squishums!”_ she clarifies stridently.

And there’s really only one thing to do in response to a demand like that: they both kiss the bird on either side of her face as she chatters with glee.

“I can’t believe we just started dating and I’m going to have to deal with your perpetual five-year-old for the rest of our lives,” Noctis says, when they’ve moved to the couch, sitting close enough that they’re touching from thigh to shoulder. Said perpetual five-year-old is currently cuddled against Prompto’s chest getting head scratches and cooing softly in appreciation.

“Oh shut up, you love her, too.”

“...Yeah, I do,” Noct admits, reaching over to playfully boop her on the beak. She gently nips the offending finger in retaliation, and laughs when he pulls his hand back quickly.

“That’s my girl,” Prompto says with a chuckle, though he probably shouldn’t be praising her for biting, even if it was a play-bite. Then he looks over at Noctis and says, “Also… dating?”

Noct goes pink, and mumbles, “I mean… that was kinda presumptuous of me, but… yeah, if you want to?”

“Does this mean I won’t get to photograph your dad’s company dinner things anymore because I’ll have to go as your date? I’m just asking because your dad pays me a _shitload_ of money for those.”

“That’s a good question and I’ll ask him next time I see him, but you didn’t answer mine,” Noctis says

“Oh, duh. _Yes,_ I want to be your boyfriend. Obviously,” Prompto says, momentarily distracted as Her Radiance wiggles out of his grasp and climbs over to sit on Noct’s shoulder.

“Okay, good. There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you want to co-adopt her?”

“Squishums?”

“Yeah,” Noct confirms, and puts a hand over his ear to keep the bird in question from playing with it. “I don’t want you to feel like she’s _your_ responsibility that you’re burderning me with…”

Prompto giggles inappropriately, and Noct gives him a look.

“What?”

“ _Bird-_ ening.”

He rolls his eyes. “You are such a nerd. _Anyway,_ you’re right. I _do_ love her too. So… I was thinking that we could file the adoption paperwork together.”

“This is so fast. You ask me to be your boyfriend and literally one minute later you want to adopt a child with me.”

“Is that a yes?” Noctis asks, a fondly exasperated smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Prompto says, leaning a little harder against Noctis. Against _his boyfriend._ Who wants to adopt the world’s best bird _with_ him.

“Cool. Then that’s settled. Can you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Please pay attention to your child so she’ll stop trying to chew my ear off.”

“Oh, you go on a whole spiel about wanting to co-parent her, but when she’s being obnoxious, she’s _my_ child?”

“Yup,” Noct confirms.

“And I’m sure that when she’s being sweet and cuddly, she’s yours,” Prompto says, but he coaxes Squishums off of Noct’s shoulder anyway.

“That sounds fair to me.”

“You’re the worst,” he says, but he’s smiling as he gets up, deposits Her Radiance on top of her cage and finally gives her the bowl of veggies he’d started making for her half an hour ago.

“I love you,” she says, picking up a green bean.

“Yeah, Squishums,” he replies, “I love you, too.”

“You sure she wasn’t talking to the vegetable?” Noct asks.

“I wish _you_ would say that to a vegetable _,_ ” Prompto teases, and Noctis laughs, and holds out his arms in an unmistakable gesture.

Happy to oblige, Prompto goes back to the couch and sinks into the offered embrace.

This is turning out to be a very, very good day.

The day they finalize the adoption paperwork for Her Radiance Queen Squishums, The First of Her Name, it also happens to be Noctis’ birthday. The adoption process has taken a little over a week, and Iris told Prompto in confidence that they were just in time—literally an hour after he submitted the first round of forms, the shelter’s phone had rung, some nice lady asking about her. Iris had been thrilled to tell the her that Her Radiance was spoken for.

Prompto had tried not to let her know how much that close call scared him. But it had all worked out in the end. The last bits of paperwork have been filled out, the fees have been paid, and everything is official. As of approximately five minutes ago, Squishums is his bird. His and Noct’s. Together.

They’re walking back out to the car, Noct’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, and Prompto asks, “Well, now that you’ve spent the whole morning of your birthday filling out forms, are you _sure_ you don’t wanna do anything fun?”

“I’ve _told_ you, it’s fine. We’re going to dinner with Ignis and Gladio in a few hours; that’s more than enough.”

“If you say so,” Prompto says, hoping that he sounds honest.

See, he may have planned something without Noctis knowing.

And he may have gotten Iris in on it.

That _may_ have been why the shelter had kept “misplacing” the forms and generally stalling them as long as possible, making it so that they hadn’t finished up until three in the afternoon, much to Prompto’s feigned and Noct’s genuine annoyance.

He gets into the passenger seat of the car and shades his eyes at the influx of light as Noctis puts the top down. During the last two weeks since they officially started dating, not a lot has changed, to be honest. They’ve always been so close, spending so much time together. He guesses there’s a new sense of openness between them, now that no one’s trying to hold anything back. And of course, when he gets the impulse to do something like _this_ , he can.

“Hey, you’ve got something on your face, here,” Prompto says, taking Noct’s chin in his hand and turning his face toward him, brushing the side of his mouth with his thumb.

“What is it?” Noct asks.

Instead of answering, Prompto just leans in and kisses him. It’s brief, intimate but chaste enough. Nothing he’d be mortified for anyone to see him doing in a parked car with the top down.

When he pulls back, Noctis smiles a little dazedly and asks, “Did you get it?”

“Yeah,” Prompto confirms, grinning and patting Noct’s knee. “Got it. Let’s go home and see our bird.”

So they do.

Noct’s first clue that all is not as it should be is the suspicious number of familiar cars up and down the street.

His second clue is the level of excited bird screeching they can hear from the garage. Squishums doesn’t usually yell like this when she’s alone—someone has to get her riled up for her to make this much noise.

“Prom, what’s going on?” Noctis asks, his tone too casual.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Prompto replies in the same manner.

“Suspicious,” he comments, and goes for the front door. Prompto follows a step behind, so he gets to witness the group gathered in the house raggedly try to say “Surprise!” in unison as they come in.

“Guys…” Noctis says, taking everyone in. Ignis and Gladio are there, of course, but so are Cindy, and Iris, who’s looking harried, having rushed out mere minutes before they did to beat them here. Luna’s made it, and so has Noct’s dad. To his surprise, Aranea is here, too—Prompto had had to tell her about this, since their lease requires him to notify her if they’re having more than five people over, but he hadn’t considered it an invitation. Apparently, she had.

Two banners have been tacked up on the living room wall. The big one says “Happy 26th Birthday, Noct!”

A smaller one underneath it says, “Welcome to the family, Your Radiance Queen Squishums Lucis-Caelum-Argentum!”

“That should be Argentum-Lucis-Caelum,” Prompto says, pointing at the smaller banner.

“I paid a lot of money to have those made and you want to criticise the order of the names?” Ignis says, narrowing his eyes.

“He’s right, Argentum-Lucis-Caelum does sound better,” Regis says, and Prompto notices with delight that Squishums is sitting happily on his shoulder, playing with his beard. Getting along with her grandpa. Adorable. He’ll have to get a picture. Regis adds with a pointed look at his son, “Keep that in mind.”

“Oh my god, dad. We started dating _two weeks ago;_ can you not?”

There had been exactly zero attempt to keep their relationship secret from their friends. Beyond the fact that Noct is a terrible liar and that Prompto doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body, they hadn’t felt any reason to.

The reactions had ranged from unsurprised to unsurprised, and Prompto wonders exactly how obvious they’d been to everyone but each other, and for how long.

Regis, in particular, had been _certain_ that they’d been together longer than that and keeping it a secret from him for some reason. He’d just wanted to respect his son’s privacy by not pushing. Prompto’s not sure which he version he prefers his boyfriend’s dad believe: “we’ve been lying to you for years” or “we weren’t lying, we were just stupid.”

After a second of glaring at his father, Noctis turns to Prompto and says, “You set this all up?”

He makes a gesture as if to say it was nothing, but then admits, “Keeping it a secret was _so_ hard, dude.”

“I can’t believe you call your boyfriend ‘dude,’” Aranea says drily.

“I can’t believe you actually came to his birthday party,” Prompto retorts without thinking, a habit he needs to break when it comes to the objectively terrifying lady who could evict him on a whim.

She shrugs and says, “I thought there would be food.” She pauses for a second, and adds, “Also, I guess I kind of like you losers and your dumb bird.”

It’s the weirdest backhanded compliment Prompto’s ever received, and yet he’s left feeling oddly touched.

She’s right, though. There is food. Ignis made enough hors d'oeuvres to feed twelve, and Gladio’s got a BBQ set up in the backyard, getting ready to grill some meat. It’s the one type of cooking he’s any good at, but he’s perfected the craft.

Noctis and Prompto make the rounds talking to the guests, after Prompto makes a quick trip to the back of the house to grab his camera so he can snap pics of the party.

They talk to everyone, and even though Prompto still feels weirdly nervous around Cindy, he manages to hold an actual conversation with her for the first time in his life. He cracks jokes and she laughs, and he thinks that maybe they can be friends.

When they get to Luna, Noct says, “Did you know that Prom was jealous of you?” and she laughs so hard and for so long that she has to set her drink down to avoid spilling it.

“Jealous?” she wheezes, at odds with her normally perfectly composed… everything. “Of me? Why, Prompto, whatever for?”

Prompto knows he must be blushing, and he says, “Well—you know, you’ve known Noct forever, and you were always going to those charity dinners as his date, and… Well, I didn’t know what else to think.”

“Because he’s like the awkward little brother I never had,” Luna says, pulling Noctis into a side-hug. He makes a noise of protest, but returns it. “Besides, he spends those dinners looking at _you_ the whole time, haven’t you noticed?”

“I do not!” Noctis insists, pulling away from Luna in affront.

“You do,” Regis calls over through a mouthful of finger sandwich.

Prompto _hadn’t_ noticed, actually. Though he does always get a suspicious number of photos of Noct smiling directly into the camera at those events, now that he thinks of it. There are a lot of things he didn’t notice, he’s realizing. Well, hindsight is 20/20, as they say.

After a while, Gladio brings in a platter of grilled meats, and they all dig in, occasionally having to shoo Squishums away from the food. Everyone turns a blind eye when she sidles over to the fruit and veggie platter, though. She thinks she’s being sneaky, and Prompto’s willing to let her ‘win’ this one.

In the resulting quiet that comes with good food, Gladio announces, “Well, these two have made the last several years of my life hell with their dancing around each other, so I think it’s time I do the same to them. Bird, listen up, I have some words I’d like you to repeat.”

Squishums looks over attentively, her beak covered in bits of stolen broccoli.

“Can you say ‘ _get some?’”_

She tilts her head, considering.

“Gladio, _no,_ ” Noctis says, sounding scandalized. Prompto is torn between laughing and feeling the same. It would seem that all the other guests have landed squarely in the ‘laughing’ camp.

“Get some,” Gladio repeats deliberately.

Her Radiance continues to consider these words.

Ignis clears his throat. “I think I suffered just as much as you did, so I would like to contribute to this conversation. You’re going about this all wrong, Gladio. Please remember, she is a _lady._ A _queen,_ at that. She mustn’t learn such vulgarities.” He looks at Squishums and says, clearly enunciating every syllable, “Engage in coitus.”

Prompto _does_ laugh at this one, and so does everyone else, for that matter. Even Noctis, though he still looks scandalized.

“Iggy, that’s so much worse,” Gladio says.

“I know,” Ignis replies breezily, and levels a vicious smile at Prompto. This must be revenge for that late-night phone call.

Once the laughter has died down, Squishums looks up at Gladio and tentatively says, “Get some?”

“Ha! You hear that, specs? I win! Someone get this bird a grape!”

“Oh no,” Noctis says.

“She only picked yours because it’s easier to say,” Ignis says.

“Get some!” Squishums shouts this time, excited by the response she’s getting from this new fun phrase, and by the promise of a grape.

“I changed my mind; your bird’s not dumb. She’s actually an evil genius,” Aranea says, and holds out a grape from her own plate. Squishums takes it eagerly and chomps down.

“She sure is,” Prompto agrees, even though this is arguably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. It’s _super_ embarrassing in the moment, though.

“I’m not sure I want to hear my granddaughter say these kinds of things,” Regis says.

“She’s usually so sweet,” Prompto insists.

“Fuck!” Squishums says, just to prove him wrong.

“Squishums, no, not in front of my dad,” Noctis says.

“Not _ever,_ actually,” Prompto amends. “Only _bad birdies_ say fuck... Wait.”

“Bad birdie!” Her Radiance accuses him.

“You set yourself up for that one, hon,” Cindy tells him.

“I am a bad birdie,” Prompto says.

“How about I just… don’t tell the shelter staff what kinds of words you’ve been teaching her.” This from Iris, along with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“That’s probably for the best,” Noctis says.

“Well, _I_ think she’s perfect,” Luna says, holding out another grape for the bird.

“I love you!” Squishums says as she takes it. Prompto breathes a sigh of relief—at least they’ll get to see her sweet side too, and if anyone could bring it out, it’s Luna.

The party continues into the evening, and Ignis brings out a beautiful lemon-blackberry cake he’d hidden in the refrigerator. It tastes even better than it looks, and embarrassing moments aside, Prompto dares to think of his surprise party as a success.

Around sunset, the guests begin to trickle out. As the last one pulls away from the curb, and Noct shuts the door to their once-again-empty house, he says, “I can’t believe you arranged that whole thing for me.”

“Yeah, well.” Prompto shrugs. “I wasn’t about to do _nothing_ to celebrate you turning twenty-six. Just remember how high the bar is for mine, now. You have two months to plan.”

Noct just smiles at that and leans in to kiss him. Since they’re _finally_ alone together, he closes his eyes, opens his mouth, and lets himself be drawn in, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Noct’s hair.

After a while, Prompto pulls back and, in a low voice, asks, “Are you _sure_ there’s nothing else you want for your birthday?”

Noctis doesn’t appear to catch the implication, and says, “Really, you’ve done _more_ than enough.”

Squishums, ever helpful, says, “Get some!”

Prompto raises his eyebrows and gives Noct a look that conveys both the offer and how _hilarious_ it is to him that their bird had to explain what it meant.

Noctis’ mouth forms a small ‘o’ of understanding as the meaning becomes clear, and he blushes prettily, making Prompto laugh.

His answer is to look at Her Radiance and say, “Hey, Squishums, I know it’s early, but do you wanna go bedtime?”

“Bedtime, bedtime!” Squishums agrees, already waddling toward her cage, apparently tired out from all the excitement today.

Noctis goes to put her to bed, and once she’s safely secured in her cage, he turns back around and comes back to Prompto. He hooks his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and pulls their bodies together.

“Where were we?” He asks.

Prompto bites back a retort about how he should just ask the bird because he kind of really wants this too, and isn’t about to ruin the mood.

“Well, birthday boy, why don’t you tell me what you want?” He says, aiming for seductive, but given the way Noctis laughs, he seems to have missed the mark. By approximately a lightyear.

“Dude, don’t laugh. I’m trying to sound sexy,” he says in his normal voice.

“Maybe don’t try so hard,” Noctis suggests through more laughter.

“You’re the worst; I don’t even _want_ to suck your dick anymore.”

Suddenly he’s not laughing anymore. “Prom. Prompto. You can’t just _say_ that.”

“Can and did. You had your chance and you blew it.”

“It’s my _birthday._ ”

“What happened to ‘you’ve done more than enough?’”

Noctis answers by kissing him again, hot and hard, open mouthed and intense. He slips one of his legs between Prompto’s and the friction is delicious, but not nearly enough, and he groans in frustration against Noct’s lips.

“Okay, you’re starting to change my mind,” he says, voice starting to go rough with want when he pulls back to breathe.

“How about we go back to my bedroom and I’ll show you how else I can redeem myself,” Noctis says.

It’s Prompto’s turn to laugh, and he says, “ _Now_ who’s trying too hard to sound sexy?”

But when Noct takes his hand to lead him to his bedroom, he doesn’t protest.

Yeah, he thinks he can mark today as a success on all counts.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, if you made it this far. Check me out on tumblr at [birdadjacent](http://birdadjacent.tumblr.com). You're the best.


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